


Damaged Goods

by PrinceSircastic



Category: X-Men (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Eventual relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-27
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 18:49:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/701486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceSircastic/pseuds/PrinceSircastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a bad break-up, Logan returns to the town where he grew up in the hopes of putting everything behind him. Nothing much has changed since he left, save for a few new faces, and he's happy to settle back into his old life - until he meets Gambit, a homeless young man the town has labelled a thief and an outcast, and no one wants anything to do with. Where the town sees trouble, Logan sees a cry for help, and he can't help getting himself involved with the odd young man. For better or worse, only time will tell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AU fics are my thing, so it was only inevitable that this happened. A few things to note about the story before you read:
> 
> \- as this is AU, there are no mutant powers, but minor odd appearances are still in place (such as Remy's eyes, etc)
> 
> \- there will be mentions of 'abuse' regarding a young teen in later chapters, and mentions of prostitution. I can't say how focused the chapters will be on this as I haven't planned THAT far ahead, but just as a warning... might be some sensitive issues.
> 
> \- if any of the characters seem OOC, it's either because I've never written them before, or because I'm putting them in a new situation and haven't got anything to fall back on. Also, any personality traits that come down solely to mutant powers or mutant backstory will be twisted to fit the story or removed entirely if it cannot be worked in. (This is unlikely, however).
> 
> \- As with my other X-Men fic, I'm using the movies as a base for the characters (with some personality traits, trademark speech patterns etc from the 90s cartoon), save for Gambit, who is based entirely on the 90s cartoon version and not Origins.
> 
> \- The relationship between Remy and Logan may take a while to kick off. Please bear with me. XD

Logan hadn't been back here in eight years. 

Eight years ago he had packed his bags and took off for a bigger city, to live his life as he had always dreamed. Now, after a failed relationship and an unsuccessful job, he was back. He stepped out of his trusty pick-up and stared up at the house he'd left behind – the house that had stood empty in his absence, looked after by his neighbour and closest friend, Ororo. She appeared in her front yard almost immediately, a big smile on her face as she hopped over the low stone wall that separated her yard from his, and he allowed her to envelope him in a hug. 

"Logan! Oh, it's so good to see you." She hugged him tightly and lingered a while, until she finally pulled back and inspected him closely. "When I got your message that you were coming back, I couldn't believe it. We all thought we'd seen the last of you, y'know." 

"Well, if I'm honest I wasn't sure if I was ever gonna come back." Logan shrugged. "But things didn't work out how I wanted, so here I am. Thanks for looking after the place. I almost sold it, but… well, good thing I didn't, huh?" He smiled. 

"I don't think you could ever sell this place, Logan. Come on, I'll help you carry your things inside." She pulled a key from the pocket of her jeans and dropped it into his hand. "You'll be wanting this back, too." 

"Thanks." He leant in to kiss her cheek, and the two of them lugged his suitcases inside the empty house. Logan had never been certain why he hadn't sold the house when he left, and his partner had asked him countless times why he didn't just let go of it and move on if he never intended to go home. He couldn't explain it, but letting go of his childhood home, passed into his hands when his mother died, just seemed like letting go of his family. And besides – he could go halfway across the world, and this quaint little town would still be home to him. "So, you wanna fill me in on things that have been happening around here?" 

"Well, for a start, Scott and Jean are engaged." Ororo told him as she set one of Logan's bags down on the floor of the kitchen. "Happened only recently, which is probably why you haven't heard anything. We've had a few new arrivals in town, and they've fit in pretty well." She paused, and Logan smiled as he realised she hadn't grown out of her nervous habit of chewing on her fingernails. "Most of them, anyway." 

"Yeah?" Logan glanced around his house, and dragged a hand through his hair. "Anything new with you that you haven't told me about?" 

"Nope, not a thing." She smiled. "Hey… if you're not exhausted from the drive, maybe I can call up Scott and Jean and we can go grab a coffee and catch up? I'm sure we all have lots of questions for you." 

"Sure, that sounds pretty good, actually. I didn't really get a lot of time to just sit and watch the world go by." He looped an arm around her waist. "Get them on the phone. I'll just change out of these clothes and into something that doesn't speak of being on the road for hours on end." He peeled away from her and rummaged in a bag, disappearing up the stairs and into his bedroom to change whilst she pulled out a phone from her pocket and dialled Jean's number. 

Half an hour later, Logan was sat outside the small coffee shop in town with his three friends, enjoying a coffee and relaxing under the sun. The great thing about this town was that everything was within an hour from everything else. It was just big enough to not feel cramped, yet not so big that people were strangers. It was home, and Logan loved it. 

"So, we know your job kinda fell apart, but that's not the only reason you're back, right?" Scott sipped at his latte, his light-sensitive eyes as always protected by the red-tinted sunglasses Logan had never seen him without. 

"No, it's not." Logan admitted. Jean leant forward a little, brushing a strand of red hair behind her ear. For a brief moment, Logan remembered why he'd once had a colossal crush on her when he was younger, but the moment passed quickly. "I had a bad break-up." 

"Oh, no." Jean reached out and put a hand on his arm in a gesture of comfort. "I'm sorry, Logan." 

"I was, too." He shrugged. "But if I'm honest, things had been going downhill for a while. It was just inevitable that we split. I don't know… after it happened I just didn't feel like sticking around, and so I sold my flat and came on home." 

"And we're happy to have you back." Ororo smiled, nudging at his shoulder lightly. 

"So, ah… you mentioned there were new people in town. Anything I need to know?" He quickly diverted the conversation away from his former relationship. It was still difficult for him to think about – he'd been ready to give his life away, and things had seemed so perfect. Yep, definitely too painful to focus on so soon after the event. 

"Right, yes." Jean grinned. "We've actually taken a few of them under our wing, so to speak. There's a delightful young woman, Rogue, who moved here with her boyfriend Bobby and their friend John. They're all very friendly people, and I'm sure you'll get along wonderfully with them. Charles' adopted sister moved into the house with him, she's just got back from college and trying to find her feet." She paused, thinking. "And I think that's all of them, actually…" 

"You missed one, Jean." Scott's tone had altered slightly, and he was looking at something over Logan's shoulder. Jean and Ororo both suddenly found interest in their drinks, which triggered Logan's curiosity. He turned, following Scott's gaze, and his eyes found the source of the sudden awkwardness. Shuffling along the street across from them was a young man who had clearly been through some tough times. His clothes looked filthy, and they were torn in several places, and his red hair was untidy and tangled. Logan felt a surge of pity for the kid. After living in the big city, he knew how to spot someone who lived on the streets. 

"Who's that?" He found himself asking, turning back to his friends. Scott sneered a little, tearing his gaze away. 

"Everyone just calls him Gambit." He shrugged. "He turned up here a couple of years ago. No one's really sure where he came from or even where he lives, but everyone generally avoids him. He's bad news, Logan." 

"How so?" 

"He's a thief." Jean explained. "And there's something not quite right about him." Logan frowned at that, but he didn't push the matter. He glanced back at the kid as he disappeared down an alleyway and out of sight. There was something incredibly dejected about the way he moved. Whoever he was, he knew the people of the town didn't want him here. The very thought made Logan a little angry. 

He'd seen enough runaways and homeless kids in the city to know that almost all of them longed for someone to extend a helping hand to them. 

Though he spent the next hour catching up with his friends, Logan's mind was elsewhere. His awful break-up had left him a little damaged and vulnerable, and so his head was letting his heart rule when it came to almost everything, and he couldn't get his mind off the homeless kid everyone in the town called 'Gambit'. When the four of them parted ways – Scott and Jean heading in one direction towards their shared home, Ororo and Logan heading in the other – he barely listened as Ororo launched into a conversation about something that had happened when Rogue had insisted she take 'the girls' dancing. 

When they reached home, Logan made an excuse and told her he wanted to walk alone for a while, to familiarise himself with the town once more. Ororo kissed his cheek and disappeared into her own house, and Logan started off again, hands thrust deep into his pockets. He walked until the sun began to sink below the horizon, and the warm glow of day faded off into night. He turned in the direction of home, knowing he still had to unpack his things, though he wasn't looking forward to the task. 

He was just passing by the handful of fast food places in the town centre when he got his second glimpse of 'Gambit'. At first, all he saw was a long brown trench coat and knee-high leather boots that looked a little worse for wear, and he paid little attention. But then he looked again, and realised that the owner of the coat was rummaging through the large dumpster outside the burger bar, and it took him only a moment to recognise the head of untidy red hair. Gambit. 

As he watched, Gambit stepped back from the dumpster, ripping open a Styrofoam box that had been thrown carelessly away. Logan caught a glimpse of what looked like soggy fries before a gloved hand snatched them up, and Gambit shovelled them into his mouth. Logan cringed a little at that. He couldn't imagine they tasted very good, but from the way Gambit eagerly swallowed them down, it was obvious that it was the first meal he'd eaten in some time. 

Logan didn't even hesitate. He hurried into the burger bar, reaching into his pocket for his wallet, and he left again in only a few minutes, clutching a similar Styrofoam box. Gambit was still rummaging in the dumpster when he stepped up to the alley, and he held out the box before him. 

"Hey." Like an animal caught in the headlights, Gambit froze, one hand halfway to his mouth, clutching something that looked like it could be leftover meat. Logan didn't want to think too much about it. "That's not good for you, kid. Here." He shook the box a little. "I want you to have this." Gambit didn't move, simply staring at Logan with surprise and a little fear, obviously not trusting him. Logan wondered if someone had taunted the poor kid with food like this before. He wouldn't put it past people. "It's yours. Saves you from rummaging around in the trash, and it's better for you, too." Gambit still made no move, and so Logan crouched and slid the box along the ground towards him. He wasn't going to invade the kid's personal space without permission, especially since it was obvious he didn't trust people. "Bon appétit." 

Something changed, then. Upon hearing the French, Gambit dropped the scrap of meat he was clutching and he straightened up a little, some of the fear and distrust ebbing away from his features. With very slow, cautious movements, he sank into a crouch and picked up the Styrofoam box, his eyes never leaving Logan's face. Once his fingers curled around the box he shrank back as fast as lightning, clutching the box to his chest as though it were the most precious thing in the world. Logan offered him a friendly smile, and slipped his hands back into his pockets. 

"Go on, it's okay." He urged, taking a step back. Gambit hesitated, still watching him suspiciously – but then the scent of the hot food became too much, and he tore open the box and lifted the burger to his lips, taking a huge bite out of it. As he devoured the burger, Logan took a moment to examine him more closely. 

His hair was an interesting shade of red that Logan had not seen before. From a distance it hadn't seemed anything out of the ordinary, but close up he could see that it was a beautiful mix of copper and rust, and something Logan could only identify as the colour of dried blood. It was gorgeous. Even dirty and matted and tangled, Logan could see that his hair was absolutely gorgeous. Beneath the grime of the streets, this kid was definitely handsome, and Logan knew he'd look much better with a little more meat on his bones. He was definitely far too thin. What struck Logan the most, and had since the moment Gambit had looked up at him, were the kid's eyes. Logan had seen some fascinating eyes in his time – Kurt, one of the younger kids he'd known a while, had pure yellow eyes, for example (and it was said that Charles' sister was the same) – but none of them came close to Gambit's. Deep red, only a few shades darker than his hair, swimming in a sea of black. They'd been breathtaking. 

Gambit had almost finished the burger. He'd wolfed it down, clearly starved, and then he stood there licking his fingers clean – the gloves that covered his hands were torn, a few fingers ripped off. Logan wondered how long he'd been wearing those clothes. Desperate fingers picked at the inside of the box, not wanting to let a single scrap of food escape him, and then Gambit looked sadly down at the empty container. Logan couldn't help but smile at that – he looked so dejected, it was actually quite adorable. His smile faded away to be replaced with surprise when Gambit lifted his eyes, and offered him a faint, weak smile. 

"Merci." His voice was soft, quiet and almost shy. At first Logan was confused – why was he asking for mercy? – but then he realised the kid had spoken in French, and had given him a shy thank you. 

"Don't have to thank me." He smiled back at him, and sensed that it was time he went his own way. At least he knew the poor kid had at least one decent meal inside him tonight. Maybe he wouldn't have to rummage in any more bins now. He pulled a hand free and gave a little wave, though he felt foolish for doing so almost immediately. He hurriedly shoved his hand back into his pocket and made to walk away, a little embarrassed at himself. Gambit fiddled idly with the Styrofoam box, and watched Logan disappear down the street. 

He was the first person in this town to show any kindness towards him. He was also a new face, and for the first time since arriving in town, Gambit didn't feel entirely lost and unwanted. 

\-- 

Ororo spent the next day helping him to unpack everything. She brought breakfast with her – two giant coffees from the coffee shop and a bag full of pastries – and started unloading a load of groceries she'd thought to pick up for him. 

"I figured you wouldn't have bought anything to stock these cupboards." She murmured as she packed things away. "Did you even eat at all last night?" He hadn't. Well, he'd finished off the snacks he'd bought for the drive down, but that was hardly a meal. It made him smile to think that the homeless kid had eaten better than he had last night. 

"Some." He shrugged. "I wasn't that hungry anyway." His body betrayed him, however, as his stomach growled at the scent of the pastries and he wolfed down three before he turned his attention to his coffee. "Don't you have work or something?" 

"Not at the weekend." She told him, finishing off the last of her own pastry as she closed the cupboards. "So, have a nice walk?" 

"Hm? Oh, yeah. This place really hasn't changed much." He smiled. "I noticed the old bungalow at the edge of town is empty, now." 

"Yeah, the last owner died about five years ago, and either something happened to his son or the guy just didn't care. It wasn't sold, and it was just left there, abandoned. No one's really thought much about it. I mean… we can't really tear it down or anything without permission, so it's just left there." She shrugged. "Some of the kids sneak in there for parties now and then. As long as they're not doing anything dangerous or illegal, everyone leaves them to it." 

"I can't imagine they get into much trouble around here." Logan laughed. "I mean, we never used to as kids, and we were always doing crazy things." 

"Well when you know the entire town by name it's difficult to get away with anything." Ororo agreed. "Still, the newer kids in town – that John kid in particular – have a bit of a dangerous edge to them. Erik is keeping an eye on them, but so far they've not done much more than harmless pranks on each other." 

"Erik's still in our law enforcement then?" 

"Erik runs the department now." Ororo smiled, moving into the living room to open up one of Logan's bags. "He got handed the title a few years back." Logan nodded, holding out his hands for the pile of clothing Ororo was lifting out of the bag. 

"Good. He really deserved it." He smiled. "I know he worked really hard for his badge." 

"He's very good at what he does." Ororo pulled another pile out, and led the way upstairs. "Now, let's get you unpacked, shall we?" 

It only took them three hours to finish off the unpacking. Logan hadn't realised he had quite that much stuff, but since Ororo insisted that he put everything away neatly and in order rather than throwing things in his closet without much thought, it wasn't much of a surprise that it took them so long. After another coffee break, Ororo excused herself, telling him she'd promised to take Rogue out shopping when she was done, and Logan waved her off. 

He considered collapsing on the sofa for a nap whilst some crappy daytime TV filled the silence, but he told himself he didn't have time to waste away like that. Instead, he grabbed his keys and decided to open up the garage and have a look at what was left inside there. Anything he hadn't wanted to take with him, or couldn't, had been locked up safely inside. As he opened up the door, a smile spread across his face, his eyes settling on the one thing he had been looking forward to coming home to. His bike. 

He wheeled her out into the yard, ducking back into the garage to find something with which to wipe her down, wanting to test her out and see if she needed work. He'd built her up himself after he'd bought an old bike that the owner had been dying to get rid of – he'd been told it was a pile of junk and probably wouldn't run again, but Logan had been determined. She was still in the process of being fixed up when he'd taken his leave of the town, and he'd left her tucked away in the garage, unfinished. Now that he was back, however, he wanted to get her finished. 

He stripped off the flannel shirt he'd dragged on that morning, leaving himself in just a thin white wife-beater, and he set a six-pack of soda beside the bike before setting to work. He'd been working at her for at least an hour when he felt eyes upon him, and he lifted his head, expecting to see Ororo or another of his neighbours. Instead, Gambit stood on the street a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his coat, watching him. Logan straightened up, wiping his hands down with the cloth he'd been using to clean up the bike, and met his eyes. 

"Hello again." He called, his tone light. He didn't want to scare him off, since he looked just about ready to bolt. "Aren't you hot in that coat?" Logan could feel the sun hot on his bare shoulders, but if anything Gambit only tugged his coat closer around him. He seemed reluctant to come any closer, watching him curiously from a distance. Since just looking at him was making Logan overheat, he bent to fish a can of soda from the six-pack, and then hesitated a moment before picking up a second. "Here, you want one?" He held the second can out in Gambit's direction, watching the kid for his reaction. Very slowly, Gambit stepped closer to him, until Logan could reach over his low stone wall and pass the can into his hand. Logan was careful not to let their hands touch as he handed it over, knowing that a lot of homeless kids tended to have issues with being touched by unfamiliar people. "Nice day, huh?" He had no idea if the kid even understood him – after all, the only language Logan had heard him speak was French. Might be he didn't know any English. But no matter – he could get by on gestures alone, if needed. He cracked open his can and took a long swig, sighing at the cool liquid washing down his throat. 

"Why you so nice to Gambit?" He turned at the voice, and watched Gambit pick idly at the ring pull of the can. Alright, so he knew English. That was a start. The accent suggested it wasn't his first language, however – French, but a little different to the French accents Logan had heard before. Perhaps he'd been raised in a French-American household? Could be he was Canadian, like Logan was. (Not that he remembered much of Canada – they'd moved down to this town when he was about two years old, and they'd never gone back). 

"Why wouldn't I be?" Logan answered, shrugging casually. 

"Ain't nobody been nice to Gambit before." The fingers picking at the ring pull finally ceased, and then the can was cracked open. "Not here." Logan quenched the flame of anger that ignited at Gambit's words. It was disgusting how most people treated the homeless or less fortunate. "But den… Gambit not seen you before." 

"Just moved back." Logan explained, watching Gambit take a rather timid sip of the soda. "That's an unusual accent. Where you from?" Gambit tensed a little, but then relaxed a moment later. Logan found it curious but he knew better than to pry. If he was living on the streets, he probably had some shit in his past he didn't like to remember. 

"New Orleans." Gambit muttered, hurriedly taking another sip of his drink. Logan smiled as he understood the accent – no doubt the kid was a Cajun. "So… you live here before?" Logan nodded, glad he had got the kid talking. 

"Yup. Left about eight years ago, and then ended up coming on home again." He laughed a little. "You can take the boy out of the town, but you can't take the town out of the boy. Isn't that the saying?" Gambit merely shrugged, and for a moment Logan wondered if he'd lost him again. 

"Can't take de Cajun out o' dis boy." Gambit spoke with a little more confidence this time, and the barely-there smile from the night before was back on his face. Logan could tell that whoever this kid was and whatever had happened to him, he was fiercely proud of his heritage. There was a moment of silence, and then Gambit shuffled awkwardly. "T'ank you for dis." He gestured with the can, and Logan smiled at him. 

"You're welcome." He perched on the wall, not missing how Gambit took a slow step backwards to keep some distance between them. "But seriously, aren't you too hot in that?" He nodded at the long coat. 

"Rather be too hot dan too cold, non?" He shrugged, the fingers of his free hand fiddling idly with the cuff of one sleeve. "Gambit don' really feel it no more anyway." Logan wasn't sure how to respond to that without sounding like an ass, and so he simply took another swig of his soda. "Dat's a nice bike you got dere." 

"You like bikes?" Logan perked up instantly. When Gambit nodded, he grinned. "Built this one up from a hunk of scrap, really. She's getting there, slowly. Can't wait to finish her off and take her out." 

"Gambit never been on a bike before, but he likes dem." His eyes never strayed from the bike as he spoke. "One day he wants to own one himself." The small chance of Gambit ever getting to own his very own motorbike made Logan feel even more sorry for him than he already did. 

"I'm sure you will, one day." He said, feeling a little awkward but smiling all the same. Gambit knocked back the rest of his soda, crumpling the can in his hand once he was done. Logan took it from him, chucking it down beside his bike. "Hey, uh…" He reached into his pocket and drew out his wallet, finding a few notes, which he then held out towards Gambit. "Here. Get yourself some proper food instead of whatever people throw away." 

"Why you give Gambit money?" He seemed unsure, withdrawing a little. "You want somet'ing from Gambit?" 

"No." Logan frowned, stepping a little closer, still holding the money out to him. "I just don't want you going hungry. It's not right." When Gambit still hesitated, he sighed. "Look, please just take it. I don't care what you do with it, or what you spend it on, just… please." Tentatively, Gambit reached out and took the money from him. Their fingers brushed very slightly as the notes changed hands, but Gambit didn't retract his hand as if he'd been burned like Logan had seen many homeless kids do in the city. 

"T'ank you." Gambit tucked the money away into an inside pocket. "You very kind to Gambit." He chewed nervously on his bottom lip, and then his hands disappeared into his coat pockets. "Gambit better be goin'…" Before Logan could stop him, he turned and hurried away down the street. Logan picked up on the sounds of girlish laughter from the opposite end of the street, and he turned to see Ororo and a short brunette making their way towards him. He settled back on the wall and waited for them to get closer – and he grinned when Ororo lifted a hand and waved. 

"Hey, 'Ro." He called when they were close enough to hear him. "Have fun shopping?" 

"Of course." She held up her hand, in which she clutched several bags. "And allow me to introduce you to Rogue." Logan stood when the younger woman stepped forward, holding out a gloved hand to him. 

"Nice to meet you, sugar." She grinned, and he returned a smile as he shook her hand. "Ororo was telling me about you when we had lunch. You could have told me he was handsome, y'know." 

"I didn't think it quite necessary." Ororo rolled her eyes. "Or do I need to inform Bobby of your opinion of Logan's physical appearance?" 

"A girl can look!" Rogue laughed. "But alright, I'll keep that opinion to myself." She sent a wink in Logan's direction, and he chuckled, draining the last of his can. 

"Well it's nice to meet you, Rogue." He told her, hooking his thumbs into his belt loops. 

"A shame it's gotta be a flying visit, but I promised the boys I'd be back in time to kick their asses at video games." She gave Ororo a quick hug, sent a wave in Logan's direction, and then she started off down the street. Logan watched her until she disappeared, and then turned back to Ororo. 

"What kind of name is Rogue?" It had been bothering him since he'd heard it the day before. 

"Her name is Marie." Ororo told him with a laugh. "Rogue is just a nickname that gets used more often than her name." She settled her bags down on the wall. "Did my eyes deceive me, or was Gambit lurking around here just now?"

"He stopped by, yeah." Logan shrugged. "We had a bit of a chat about bikes." 

"Be careful to lock your bike back up when you're done, Logan. I'm not saying he would, but… well, he's been branded a thief for a reason." She warned him. 

"Just because he's living on the streets and has nothing but the clothes on his back, doesn't mean he's gonna steal everything he sets his eyes on." Logan rolled his eyes. "He doesn't strike me that way." 

"You've only been here a day, Logan. You don't know the trouble he's caused." She sighed heavily. "I feel pity for the young man, but I don't trust him." 

"That's exactly the problem." Logan muttered. "No one trusts him, and so he doesn't trust anyone in return. The town treats him like an outcast, and so he acts like one." 

"Alright, just… don't say I didn't warn you." Ororo held up her hands, and then gathered up her bags again. "I better put this stuff away. Scott and Jean invited us both over for dinner tonight if you're up for it." 

"Sure. I still need to do some proper grocery shopping, so free food is always a plus." He watched her step gracefully over the wall between their yards, pulling her house key from her bag. "It's nice to know you still don't bother to use your gate." 

"Why do I need to when I can use your wall?" She laughed. "I'll call by around six, and we'll walk on down to Scott's place. See you!" Logan lifted a hand in a wave, and slumped back onto the wall. 

Ororo wasn't a cruel woman, in fact quite the opposite, but even she seemed to look down on Gambit just because he lived on the streets. If Gambit had indeed stolen things in the past, Logan couldn't help but think it was only because he had to. He wasn't sure why he was so quick to defend him, especially since he didn't know him any better than the rest of the town, but something about him tugged at Logan's heart. He remembered how lost and alone he'd felt when he first moved to the big city, a newcomer amongst strangers. Granted he'd had the money for a flat and he picked up a job quite quickly, but… it was scary moving to a new place. 

He couldn't even begin to imagine what horrors Gambit might have left behind when he came here. Maybe he'd hoped to be greeted with open arms, and find someone willing to help him. Well… it might have taken a few years, but now he'd found them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updating - a lot of things got on top of me and then I had an assignment due. I hope this is worth the wait ._.

Logan pushed the shopping cart down the cereal aisle, idly glancing at the brand names, not entirely sure why he was here – he rarely ate breakfast, and if he did it was likely to consist of bacon and eggs. Still, it was out of habit that he'd wandered into the aisle – his partner had always sat down with a bowl of cereal each morning. Sighing heavily, Logan quickened his pace and hurried out of the aisle. He needed only to buy for himself now, and he had to keep reminding himself of that fact. 

"Look, I'm sorry but you're going to have to leave the premises." He turned at the sharp voice, recognising it as familiar but not quite being able to place it. "You've been warned before." Curious, Logan pushed his cart further along, lurking at the end of an aisle and hiding behind the shelving unit as he glanced down at where the voice had come from. He gave another sigh as he recognised the long brown trench coat. Gambit. Standing with him was a tall man in the uniform of the local police department, and one glance at his face told Logan why he'd recognised the voice – Erik. 

"Gambit not doing anyt'ing." Gambit protested. "He just wanted to pick up somet'ing!" 

"Stealing is a crime, you know." Erik sighed. "I'm going to need you to turn out your pockets." 

"Gambit not stealing!" Logan edged closer now, hearing the desperation in Gambit's voice. "Gambit has money, look!" He withdrew a couple of notes – the notes Logan had given him the day before. "Gambit gonna buy t'ings!" 

"Alright, where did you steal that from?" Erik caught Gambit's wrist in his hand. 

"Gambit didn' steal it!" 

"Actually, I gave him that." Logan called out, wandering over. Erik and Gambit both turned towards him, and Logan sent Gambit what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "I gave him that money yesterday. Told him to buy himself some proper food with it." 

"Logan?" Erik raised his eyebrows, glancing between Logan and Gambit. Slowly, he released Gambit's wrist. "You gave this kid money?" 

"Sure. That's not a crime, is it?" Logan challenged, putting a hand on Gambit's shoulder. Was it his imagination, or did Gambit shift his weight just a little, putting himself a little further back, behind him? "Look, I get that everyone thinks he's a thief and I can't say anything about that since I've only just got back, but… this time you've got no case here, Erik." 

"Hm." Erik frowned, clearly unconvinced. "Well, I've still been requested to remove him from the premises…" 

"I'll vouch for him." He turned to Gambit. "You alright to hang with me until I'm done?" Gambit nodded, inching further behind him very subtly. "I'll make sure he keeps his hands to himself, except if he sees something he wants to  _buy_." 

"Logan…" Erik sighed. "Alright. But if he steals anything, I'm gonna have to take him in." 

"He won't." Logan stared Erik down for a moment, and then Erik gave another sigh and turned to go and speak to the store manager. Once he was gone, Logan turned back to Gambit. "You alright, kid?" Gambit nodded, his eyes downcast as he idly toyed with the money still clutched in one hand. 

"Nobody wants Gambit here." He murmured, tucking the money back into a pocket. 

"Try not to think about anyone else for the moment. You came here to buy food, right?" Gambit nodded again. "Well, let's get you something. I'll make sure no one bothers you again while we're here." 

"T'ank you." He chewed on his bottom lip. "So your name is Logan, eh?" Logan smiled, pushing his cart along the aisle once more. 

"Right… never told you my name. Sorry." He laughed. "Yeah, I'm Logan." Gambit fell into step beside him, close enough to be his shadow. "So what were you looking for?" 

"Anyt'ing." Gambit shrugged, glancing around him as though paranoid someone else was going to swoop in and try to manhandle him out of the store. Logan wondered what sort of thing would be suitable – he had no idea if the kid could cook anything, or even if he had anywhere safe to store anything. "Gambit jus' want somet'ing…" He trailed off, as though embarrassed. 

"Something…?" Logan prompted, stopping to throw a few things in his cart. 

"Somet'ing sweet, maybe?" Gambit shrugged again. "It's been a while…" He rubbed at the back of his neck, averting his eyes and shuffling awkwardly. Logan thought it was ridiculously endearing. 

"Alright, let's see what we can find…" 

\-- 

Logan had never seen someone pack away food like Gambit could. In the end, Logan had insisted on buying him a handful of sandwiches as well as the few things he'd bought for himself, and three of the six had already disappeared within a few minutes. Logan made a note to maybe buy some more and give instructions to save them for later, but right now he didn't want to disturb him. Asides from that burger he'd bought for him the other night, he had no idea when the kid had last had a proper meal. 

"So the people here don't really like you, huh?" Logan murmured as Gambit finished off the sandwich he was eating. 

"Dey don' trust Gambit. Dey t'ink he's gon' steal everyt'ing all de time." Gambit's shoulders slumped a little, and he sighed. "Gambit only steal when dere be not'ing else he can do to stay alive." He chewed on his bottom lip, and cautiously lifted his eyes to meet Logan's. "But he only take what he need, and he don' like doin' it." 

"Thing is, kid, people don't like being stolen from." Logan sighed, wanting to put a hand on his shoulder but not trusting the kid not to run off at the touch. "You're gonna get some hostility, especially if they know it's you. I take it someone caught you?" 

"Non." Gambit sighed again. "Not exactly. Dey jus'… assumed. Dey assumed right, o' course, but dey had no proof. Ever since den no one has even given Gambit a smile or not'ing." He picked at a loose thread dangling from one of the pockets of his coat, twirling it around one finger carefully. 

"Is there nowhere you can go to get help? A shelter or something?" Logan risked a touch now, gently touching the kid's arm. Gambit didn't pull away at the first contact, and so he laid his hand more firmly on his arm. 

"Non." He repeated quietly. "Dere's nowhere." Logan felt a surge of pity for him, and hoped it didn't show on his face. Pity was the last thing this kid needed – it wouldn't help him, not in the long run. A few good meals from a kind stranger wasn't a solution. Gambit picked up the carrier bag full of food and water and stood, dragging long fingers through his hair. "T'ank you again, Logan. You de firs' one here to ever show Gambit any kindness. He not gon' forget dat." 

"You don't have to live this way, Gambit. There might not be anywhere here that can help you, but we're not the only town in the country. There's got to be a place you can stay until you're back on your feet. There are homeless shelters all over that can help you get a job, find somewhere to live-," 

"Non, Logan. No one gon' help Gambit." He shook his head. "He tried." 

"Just because one place-," 

"Four, Logan." Gambit cut in. "Gambit tried four times. Each time, dey turn him away or dey send him places dat are harmful to him. Dey claim to want to help but no one ever wants anyt'ing to do wit' a street rat like Gambit." He turned up the collar of his coat with his free hand, and shrugged. "But dat's okay. Gambit jus' fine on his own. Bye, Logan." He waved his hand in a gesture of goodbye, and started walking off down the street. Logan frowned as he watched him go – he knew better than to try and stop him, but there was something pulling at him to go after him. How could four separate shelters turn him away, or – as Gambit had said – put him in more harm? Just what had this kid been put through? 

With a heavy sigh Logan pushed up from the bench he'd been sat on with Gambit, and made his way to his truck. Gambit had refused to get in the car even though Logan had offered to take him wherever he wanted to go, and so he'd insisted he at least sit down and eat something with him – but now he had groceries to put away, and he wanted to talk to Ororo about Gambit. In a town like this, everyone knew everything within minutes, and she would be able to tell him exactly what had gone on whilst he was away. She might even know where Gambit holed himself up at night. 

Her car wasn't in the driveway when he returned home, which meant she had gone out of town – probably gone to the next town over with Jean. He remembered the two of them doing so at least once a week when they were younger, just going for lunch or for shopping or to go ice skating in the winter. As far as he knew, they kept up the tradition. He'd have to talk to her when she got back. 

Unloading and packing away the groceries took longer than he expected – he completely rearranged all the cupboards and organised the fridge as he went along, until everything was exactly where he wanted it. Moving was always a long, tiring event, even if you didn't have to move a ton of furniture around and most of your stuff was already in its place. He flopped down onto the sofa and flicked the TV on, settling in place with a cold beer in one hand. He was barely five minutes into a police car chase program when someone pounded on his front door. Grumbling a little, he rose from the sofa and went to answer it. 

A face he hadn't seen in many years greeted him from his doorstep, with a beaming smile that hadn't changed at all. Charles Xavier had been in the circle of friends Logan had gone around with in his youth, although by looking at him you'd expect him to feel rather out of place. Whereas his friends all looked the part of small-town kids with torn jeans and untidy appearances, Charles had been neat and well-kept with shirts and ties and beautifully groomed hair, and an accent that spoke of a rich, well-educated background. Still, when it came down to it, he hadn't been any different to them, and as such he'd fitted nicely within their group. Often it had been Charles who suggested they do some of the more risky and dangerous things, and it was Charles who had first brought them a six-pack and a packet of cigarettes. 

Beside Charles was a young woman Logan had never seen before, but he'd heard enough about her to make the connection that she was Charles' younger, adopted sister. 

"Logan! I heard you'd come back, but I've been very busy with my work so I couldn't get over here to say hello and welcome you home!" Charles held up a covered dish that Logan knew would contain some of Charles' fantastic cooking. He would always bring dishes over to them from time to time, for no reason other than he wanted to share it with his friends. "I made your favourite." Logan took the dish and lifted it, sniffing curiously – and he grinned at the delicious scent that hit him. 

"Thanks, Charles. Come on in." He stepped back to let them enter, and Charles turned to beckon his sister in after him. "You must be…" 

"Raven." She smiled, holding out a hand, which Logan shook. "Nice to meet you, Logan." He closed the door behind them and waved them into the front room. 

"I ran into Erik earlier." Logan said conversationally, and he smirked as Charles fiddled with his tie in a gesture he remembered all too well – a touch of nerves, and a hint of embarrassment. Erik and Charles had been firm friends from the start, although they had a few disagreements along the way. Shortly before Logan had left, they'd had one big fight which broke apart the strong friendship they'd built up over the years, and Logan had told both of them to just move on and talk it out together. According to Ororo's letters over the years, they'd done more than talk it out. "You wanna tell me how it happened?" He grinned, and Charles' cheeks went faintly pink. 

"Can we not discuss my romantic life in front of my sister?" He said quickly, and Logan laughed as he carried the dish through into the kitchen to put it somewhere safe ready for that evening. That would save him cooking. 

"Oh, please. I've  _heard_  your romantic life." Raven rolled her eyes, dropping onto the sofa and turning her attention to the TV. "Talking about it in front of me is the least of your worries when I've heard the things Erik does to you at night. You should really invest in soundproofing. Or doing it as his place." Charles went bright red now, and Logan leant down to give Raven a high-five. He had a feeling he'd get along with her. 

"How about we discuss  _your_  romantic life, Logan?" Charles cut in quickly, trying to take the focus off himself now. "How's that going?"

"Terrible, really." He shrugged. "It's complicated." He took a pause, and then sighed. "But I'm single now, and that's all that matters isn't it?" He hesitated a moment. "Can I get either of you something to drink?" 

"No, thank you." Charles smiled. "I really can't stop for very long." 

"He's got a date with Erik tonight." Raven explained for him. "I'm wondering if I should make myself scarce for the evening. I'm sure Rogue and the boys won't mind me dropping in on them." She smirked. "Unless he's intending to take you back to his place for a change?" 

"Raven, you know he can't. He has a housemate who wouldn't be particularly happy with him." Charles sighed, and Logan could tell this was a conversation he'd had many times. "Emma never takes her dates home, and Erik shows her the same courtesy. Here." He reached into his pocket and drew out his wallet, handing her a handful of notes. "Go watch a movie or something with your friends, all on me. Just… let me know if you're staying with someone else." 

"An adult and he still worries about me." Raven flashed a smile at Logan. "But alright, I'll let you know, so you don't start tearing out your hair in panic. I know Erik likes your hair." Charles decided to ignore that as he watched his money disappear into a pocket, and he turned his attention back to Logan. 

"It's good you're back, y'know. None of us thought we'd ever see you again." He shrugged one shoulder. "Wouldn't blame you if you'd never come back, though. This place is great and I wouldn't change it for the world, but… big cities provide more opportunity for life." 

"Big city didn't do it for me." Logan shook his head a little. "I don't think I intended to come back, really, but… you can never tell what's gonna happen." He glanced out of the window as a familiar ragged figure hurried past, head down, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. "Or who's gonna need you back home." 

\-- 

Walking was becoming a habit for Logan. He'd done a lot of it in the big city simply because it was quicker than driving or getting public transport, but he'd never really enjoyed it – seeing it only as something he had to do to get where he wanted to be. He'd never have gone walking for pleasure, that's for sure. And yet now that he was home, that's all he ever seemed to do. 

He'd seen Ororo return home about an hour after Charles and Raven had left – he decided he liked the sister as much as he'd liked Charles at first – but he hadn't felt like going over to talk to her yet, and so he'd waited for her to disappear inside and then he'd set off out on a walk. He'd maybe drop by when he got back, if it wasn't too late. Not that Ororo would mind a late visit. The two of them had often sat in their bedroom windows talking away to the early morning when they were younger. He briefly wondered if she still slept in the same room, or if she'd moved into one of the larger rooms after her family had moved away and left her the house. He'd have to ask her about that in more detail. She'd given him the basics of what happened in a letter, of course, but he still didn't know the full story. 

He walked the same paths he remembered from his youth, tearing down the streets on his bike with his friends racing alongside him, some on rollerskates, some on skateboards. It brought a smile to his face as he remembered the first time Scott had tried to get on a skateboard and ended up flat on his back in a matter of seconds, and the time Erik attempted to show off a new trick he was learning on his skates and landing awkwardly in a nearby bush instead. Those were the days, before life became important and it wasn't all about being idiots and having fun. 

He ended up on the path down to the river that ran through the southern part of town. It wasn't a particularly wide river, but it had been enough for fooling around on hot summer days. He wondered if their old rope swing was still hanging from the tree on the riverbank. 

At this point, he wasn't at all surprised to see Gambit ahead of him, crouched beside the edge of the river. It seemed like everywhere he went, there he was. He stopped before he got too close, watching him, curious about what he was doing. The kid had shed his coat and his boots – they were lying sprawled on the grass beside him, and he was in the process of rolling his tattered jeans up to his knees. As Logan watched, he shed his gloves and tugged his shirt up over his head, the skin of his back ghostly pale in the afternoon sunlight. Logan felt like he shouldn't be watching, that this was something private he shouldn't be witnessing, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. 

Even from this distance he could see the even paler lines that criss-crossed over Gambit's back, the telltale shadows of injuries inflicted upon him. Patches of his skin were dark with bruises and he could tell it had been a few days at least since he'd washed. He tried to force back the overwhelming sense of pity that threatened to wash over him. Pity wasn't going to help the kid. Pity never really helped anyone. The shirt joined his coat, gloves and boots on the bank, and then Gambit slid into the water, a quiet yelp escaping as the cold water hit his skin. 

Logan knew he should leave now, before he was caught, but his legs wouldn't obey him. He was transfixed as Gambit bent to scoop water up in his hands, splashing it over his face, his eyes watching the kid's movements as he bent to scoop up more water, rubbing down each arm in turn. Was this how he kept himself relatively clean? Was this really what he had to do because no one would help him? 

He turned away from the sight, dragging a hand through his hair as he sighed softly. This wasn't on. How could no one in the town extend a hand to him just once, even if they'd labelled him a thief and a troublemaker? Couldn't they see how alone he was? He shook his head, turning back to the sight before him, and he took a few casual steps forward, as if he'd only just stumbled upon the river. 

Gambit immediately bolted upright from where he'd been kneeling in the river, water glistening on his chest and dripping from his now-soaked jeans, the long ponytail of his hair damp at the very end. For a moment his eyes were wide with fear, but when Logan stopped in false surprise, he watched the kid relax a little. 

"Gambit?" Logan called softly, taking another step forward. He wasn't sure how to proceed – it was obvious what the kid was doing, even if he hadn't been watching him a moment ago, so asking wasn't the smartest idea. He didn't want the kid to bolt like he was so prone to doing, but he also didn't want to invade his space any more than he already had. "You'll get cold like that." He immediately wanted to kick himself for saying something stupid, but it was said and done, and couldn't be taken back. Gambit said nothing, and merely turned his back on Logan and slumped down onto the edge of the riverbank, bending forward to rub his legs down hurriedly. 

Logan didn't want Gambit to close off with him. He wanted the kid to open up more, to trust him, so he could finally get some help – and so he found himself shedding his jacket and his boots, and rolling up his jeans to the knees. Gambit flinched a little in surprise when Logan dropped down beside him, his legs dangling in the cold river water, and he turned to fix wide, surprised eyes on the other man. 

"I used to do this a lot during the summer when I was a kid. I could sit here for hours, right up until the sun started to go down and the air got cooler." Logan blurted out, simply wanting to break the silence. "Been a while since I even thought about it." He sent a sideways glance at Gambit, noticing more dark spots across his chest and more pale scars. This kid had definitely been through the wars – and probably recently, judging from the colour of the bruises. 

"What are you doin', Logan?" Gambit sighed, peeling the sodden denim away from his thighs very slightly. "Why do you keep tryin' to be nice to Gambit?" 

"Because I'm a nice person." Logan replied, though he wasn't entirely certain that was true. He tried to be, at least. "And everyone needs a friend." He shrugged. "Seems to me you don't have very many of those around here." 

"Friends don' interrupt bat' time." Gambit muttered with a roll of his eyes, and Logan actually had to stifle a laugh. When Gambit stood, Logan lifted his head to meet his gaze, and was surprised to see a little smirk on the kid's face. "You can sit dere if you want, but Gambit ain't finished." Logan gave a little shrug, and watched as Gambit reached up to pull the tie from his hair, letting the coppery-red locks spill down over his shoulders. Logan sank his teeth into his bottom lip to hold back the exclamation that almost slipped out at the sight, and mentally scolded himself for even thinking like that. 

But damn, this kid was  _gorgeous_. 

He had known the kid was attractive – that was obvious to any eye. No one could deny that he had a beautiful face and stunning eyes, and that his hair was the most gorgeous colour, but Logan hadn't expected to find him  _this_  attractive. Standing knee-deep in the water, sodden jeans slipping down narrow hips, and that beautiful hair framing his face and sticking to his glistening chest, the red a sharp contrast to the pale skin beneath… Logan's mind was definitely going down a road it shouldn't be. He forced the thoughts to the back of his mind, and tried to distract himself. 

"So, uh… is Gambit really your name?" He asked, hoping his voice sounded even and normal and not like he was thinking about all the things he could do to this beautiful young man. 

"It be de name dat everyone calls him." Gambit shrugged, sinking into the water again, his head tipping back. Logan swallowed thickly at the smooth curve his body made – he was a little too thin right now, but there was an underlying hint of muscle beneath the skin – and dragged his eyes away from the line of his exposed throat. "An' it be de name dat he used to hearin'." Gambit straightened up again, hair wet and slick and plastered to his face, neck and back. 

"But it's not your name." Logan pushed on, trying to ignore how the soaked jeans slipped even further down when Gambit stood, weighed down by the water they'd absorbed. Long fingers dragged through coppery hair, ruffling as they went, and then he was scooping it up and tying it back once more. 

"Non, it's not." Gambit shrugged again, hooking his fingers through his belt loops and tugging the jeans back up over his hips, which Logan was thankful for. Naturally, his eyes had found the fine dusting of red hair trailing down his abdomen to disappear beneath the waistband of his jeans, and he already felt like too much of a creeper to even let his thoughts wander in that direction. He wanted to help the kid, not sleep with him, damnit! Although…. No. Thinking like that was bad. 

"So… what's your real name?" Gambit stopped and turned surprised eyes to Logan. 

"No one's ever asked dat befo'." He murmured, and Logan smiled. 

"I'm asking now." Gambit tucked a loose strand of wet hair behind his ear and the faintest of smiles spread across his face. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to…" 

"Remy." The word was spoken so softly that Logan almost didn't hear it. "My name is Remy." 

"Well it's nice to meet you, Remy." Logan stood and held out his hand, and for a moment Remy stared at it and said nothing. Logan was about to withdraw it when it was taken up in a cool, gentle grasp. 

"T'ank you, Logan…" Remy was closer than Logan remembered, close enough for him to see individual drops of water trickling down his cheek and dripping from the end of his nose, close enough to see the scars in finer detail, close enough to notice fainter bruises still healing across his shoulders and collarbone. Logan opened his mouth to say something, anything, but words wouldn't come. The smile on Remy's face was gentle and a little shy, and he tilted his head and pressed his lips to Logan's cheek in a brief, chaste kiss. 

Before Logan could comprehend what had just happened, Remy was darting away, gathering up his things, and disappearing off up the riverbank. Logan made to call out for him, but something stopped him, and instead he simply let him go. It took him a moment to realise his cheeks were burning, and he was suddenly rather pleased that no one was around to see him blush like a schoolboy over a little kiss on the cheek. He stepped out of the river and gathered up his own things, and turned in the direction of home. 

It was only when he could see his house up ahead that he realised Remy had referred to himself in first person, instead of third.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan learns a little more about Remy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay, guys. Things are hectic right now and I'm finding it difficult to get things written, so just bear with me. Thanks to everyone who's commented so far!

Later, he would wonder what on earth had possessed him to make the decision to redecorate the house, but for now Logan was just glad for something to do. He knew he should look for work in the town at some point soon, but the very idea of it exhausted him, and so he was putting it off by throwing himself into something else. 

Redecorating the spare bedroom was clearly the better option. 

He'd nipped into town for some paint, though he hadn't been able to decide which colour would look best – he figured he'd pick one once it was on the wall, and the other colour could be used in a different room. The whole house needed work, really. The last time it had been decorated, Logan had been just old enough to be sent out of the way whilst his parents worked. 

The spare bedroom, as he was referring to it now, had once been the room he'd shared with his older half-brother, Victor. If he squinted, he could still see the marks on the wall where their old bunk-beds had once sat. Those had been ditched once they were both in their teens, of course – traded in for a simple pair of single beds set across from each other. 

Pushing aside the memories of the brother who'd later abandoned them, Logan picked up the paint-roller, and began to bury the faded blue walls under a layer of soft cream. He finished the first layer upon one wall and set the roller down, realising he probably should have moved out the old furniture before he'd started. Well, no time like the present. 

He found a home for the bookcase in the main bedroom, and he moved the bedside table out into the hallway out of the way. The desk, however, would have to go. He had no use for it, and it was just taking up space. Getting it down the stairs was a challenge, but he managed to get it out into the front yard without damaging anything along the way. He set it down on the grass and stepped back, wondering what he was going to do with it – maybe someone would take it off his hands for a small price? If not he'd probably end up taking it to pieces and throwing it out. There was no other use for it, really. 

"Did de desk offend you somehow?" Logan whirled around in surprise, and immediately smiled when his gaze settled on the long figure of Gambit – no,  _Remy_  – perched upon his wall. "Only yo' lookin' at it like it has."

"No…" He laughed, wiping his hands idly on his shirt. "Just wondering what to do with it." He gestured to the window above the door, which he'd left wide open to help air out the room and weaken the smell of paint. "Redecorating." 

"Oh." Remy dragged his fingers through his hair lightly. "Well, if you can' shift it, den you could always donate it or somet'in'. Dere's a few places in town for dat." 

"Right, thanks." He watched Remy for a moment, pleased that he seemed a little more comfortable around him. He couldn't help but think that he would never have perched so casually on the wall before. "Hey, uh… you know anything about decorating?" Remy glanced up at him, surprised. 

"Uh, well… oui, sort of." He shrugged. "Remy knows how to hold a paintbrush, anyway. Why?" 

"Well, I was just… I mean if you like…" Logan hesitated, and sighed. "I could use an extra pair of hands." 

"You don' have friends to help you do dat?" Remy raised an eyebrow, drawing his knees up towards his chest and hugging them, making his perch on the wall look uncomfortable and awkward.

"Oh, well… yeah…" Logan sighed. "I just thought-," 

"You t'ought dat because Remy got nowhere to go dat he got not'in' to do?" Logan's jaw fell open as he struggled to find a response to that without sounding like an enormous ass, but then Remy smiled – a proper smile, one that even touched his eyes. "You should see yo' face, Logan." 

"Were you-," 

"Playin' wit' you? Oui." Remy swung his legs down into Logan's yard and stood up, brushing his coat down a little. "Gotta find fun somewhere, non?" 

"I changed my mind. You're an ass and I don't want you in my house." Logan shot back, but he was grinning to show he didn't actually mean that. Part of him worried that Remy would take him seriously even then, but Remy simply rolled his eyes. 

"You want dis room done or not?" Logan laughed gently, and reached out to put a hand on Remy's shoulder. He felt a slight twitch beneath his hand, but Remy didn't pull away or show any sign of discomfort. Definite progress. 

"Right, well… come on in." He led the way through the front door, and had reached the stairs when he turned to check that Remy was following him. The young man had hesitated on the front step, but as Logan watched he very carefully took a step over the threshold. "My house won't bite, y'know." 

"Remy knows dat." Remy muttered, rolling his eyes. Logan grinned, gesturing to the stairs. 

"Alright, this way." He led the way, jogging ahead so Remy could follow in his own time without the feeling of being watched. He half expected him to turn and run, but he figured Remy had surprised him enough already, and so he might do so again. He stood just inside the doorway of the spare bedroom, studying the three walls yet to be painted, and sighed. "Gonna take more than paint to brighten this place up…" 

"Paint's always de firs' step." He turned slightly and smiled at Remy, who stood awkwardly two feet away from him, looking as though he didn't really know what to do with his hands. Logan cast a glance over his clothes and sighed again. 

"Hey, uh… if you're gonna help, you might wanna take that coat of yours off. Wouldn't want to ruin it by getting paint on it or anything." He chewed on his lip for a moment. "In fact, I could give you an old shirt of mine or something?" 

"Oh." Remy peered down at his own clothes, his hands fisting around the fabric of his coat for a moment. He looked like he might be reconsidering the whole thing at the idea of the coat being out of his hands, but then he was nodding and easing it off his shoulders. "Oui. Yo' right, o' course." 

"Right, uh… let me get you something…" Logan slipped past him into the master bedroom, rummaging through his drawers for a moment before he found an old college t-shirt he never wore anymore. When he stepped back out into the hall, Remy was stood waiting with his coat draped over one arm. "Let me go hang that up or something." He held out a hand for the coat, whilst offering the shirt to him with the other. 

"Take care o' it." Remy told him as he reluctantly handed the coat over. Logan smiled and darted back into his bedroom to hang it on the back of his door. 

"It'll be safe, I promise." He stopped in his tracks as Remy tugged the thin t-shirt from his body, and heat rose to his face as his eyes traced the smooth, pale skin he remembered from the river the other day. Remy folded the shirt carefully and held it out to Logan, who stared at it for a moment before realising he was supposed to take it and put it with his coat. Logan was very glad of the distraction, and though he'd never admit it, he hesitated for a moment before going back out to Remy. 

He'd put on the college tee by the time he stepped back out into the hall, much to his relief. Despite Remy being taller than him, the shirt seemed to just hang off his thin frame. It was only just long enough for him, but the neckline hung low over his collarbones, and it was very loose around his chest. One thing Logan noted, however, was despite how slim Remy was, his arms still filled out the sleeves quite nicely.

"You went to college, eh?" Remy smoothed the shirt down his front, fingers tracing the pattern on the front. "What did you study?"

"Art." Logan smirked a little as he remembered. He hadn't actually finished college – he'd dropped out when Victor had abandoned the family, and he was still incredibly bitter about that. 

"Den shouldn' you be good wit' paint?" The corner of Remy's mouth twitched up into a small smirk, which had Logan grinning.

"I was more of a pencil guy." He shrugged, wandering back into the spare room. "Or charcoal. Sketches, y'know? I could never make paint work." He picked up the roller he'd been using before and held it out to Remy with a smile. 

"Den you doin' it all wrong." Remy took the roller from him with the faintest of smiles. 

"Speaking from experience?" Logan dug out a second roller for himself, grateful now that they' come in a pack of two. 

"Oui." Remy shrugged one shoulder as he dipped the roller in the paint, coating it thoroughly before he turned to the wall. He hesitated, pointing at it as if to confirm it was the one Logan wanted painted, and Logan nodded quickly. "Remy used to paint a bit. Not'in' special." 

"Then consider me impressed." Logan laughed, starting at the other end of the wall. He didn't want to crowd the kid, not when he'd made such progress with him. "Probably for the best I didn't finish, really. I'd have been hopeless with some of the assignments." 

"You didn' finish college? Why?" Logan glanced over, watching as Remy stretched up to make the roller reach the very top of the wall. The shirt rose with the movement, giving Logan a nice view of pale skin, his jeans riding low enough on his hips to reveal sharp hipbones. Logan wet his suddenly dry lips and forced himself to focus. 

"Family stuff." He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the wall and the paint he was applying. "My mother wasn't well, and my brother decided he was tired of dealing with it. So I came home." Logan sighed. "Victor only really thought about himself towards the end." 

"Brot'ers can be difficult." Remy gave a heavy sigh, turning to put more paint on his roller. He paused, and lifted his eyes to meet Logan's. "Speakin' from experience, again." Logan was surprised that he'd offered up the information, but also pleased. Remy trusted him – at least, to a certain degree. 

"Older or younger?" Logan knew better than to ask where the brother was now, or what had happened. If Remy wanted him to know, he'd tell him. He knew better than to pry. 

"Younger." Remy had that little faint smile on his face once more. "Alt'ough not by much. An' he wasn' really Remy's brot'er… not exactly." He paused, and turned back to the wall. "Remy was adopted."  _Jeez, this kid really has been through some hell,_  Logan thought as he processed this new information. 

"Victor was only my half-brother." He told him after a moment. "Same father, different mothers. That's probably why he left, in the end. After our father died, he only stuck around because of me, and then I went off to college. My mother helped raise him, but he never thought of himself as her son. Probably felt no obligation to take care of her." 

"She was his family, blood or not. He shouldn' have left her like dat." Logan glanced at him once again when he heard the trace of anger in Remy's voice. Family was definitely a sore subject, for both of them. 

"No, he shouldn't have, but he did." Logan shrugged it off. As bitter as he was, he knew being angry about it would serve no purpose. It wouldn't change what had happened, and really he was amazed Victor had stayed as long as he did. "Family means a lot to you, huh?" 

"Oui. Remy never really had a family befo' Jean-Luc took him in." Remy no longer sounded angry – now he just sounded lost.  Deciding it was probably best to change the subject, he cleared his throat a little and smiled. 

"So, uh… I've never been to New Orleans." It was a poor conversation starter, and not much of a deviation from the old conversation, given that New Orleans was Remy's hometown, but Logan hoped it would be something a little lighter to discuss. 

"Non?" Remy smiled a little now, which Logan was thankful for. At least he hadn't fucked up. Yet. "You'd like it dere, maybe." Remy shrugged one shoulder as he applied fresh paint to the section of the wall he'd been working on, covering up any patchy areas. 

"I'll have to visit sometime, then." Logan set his paint roller down and wiped his hands on his shirt, studying Remy for a moment. The kid was almost entirely focused on the task he was doing, no doubt keeping his mind on something. Logan definitely understood that – after all, wasn't that what this whole redecorating thing was about? "You thirsty?" He didn't wait for an answer, because he had a fair idea that Remy would deny it even if he was. "I'll be back in a few." Remy watched Logan disappear through the door, and smiled to himself as he gave a subtle roll of his eyes. 

Logan was the most awkward man Remy had ever met, but in a very endearing way. He was also one of the kindest men Remy had met, which was why he was here in the first place. For years he'd lived in the shadows of the town, not fitting in with the locals and never feeling like he was wanted – until Logan had shown up with his gentle smiles and kind gestures. Logan seemed genuinely interested in who he was, and didn't give a second thought to treating him like he would anyone else. 

He'd been wary at first, of course. He had a long history of trouble that meant he didn't trust people too easily, but Logan had shown on more than one occasion that he could be trusted. Logan meant him no harm. Logan had been the first one to ever ask his name – and that meant more to Remy than anything else Logan had done for him. 

Gambit was a name he was used to, a name he'd been used to for many years. He'd earned the nickname in a bar where he used to play poker – he'd been underage and he was certain at least three of the regulars knew it, but no one had ever thrown him out for it – and it had stuck ever since. It was better to be known as Gambit than to have his real name spread around too many places. Gambit was who he had become, and he'd accepted that. Gambit was the name he gave when it was demanded. It was just safer that way. No one had called him Remy in some time. 

"I didn't know if you drank or not – hell I don't even know if you're old enough to, so I brought beer and soda…" Logan's voice filtered into the room before the man himself appeared, and Remy turned to the door once more. Logan had a six-pack of soda cans tucked under one arm, and a couple of bottles of beer grasped in his other hand. He looked at Remy expectantly, waiting for some sort of comment or decision. 

"Remy's old enough." Was that his imagination, or did the kid actually just roll his eyes? Logan smirked a little as he set the soda cans down and opened up one of the bottles of beer, holding it out to Remy, who took it from him and raised it to his lips. Logan tore his eyes away from the exposed throat as Remy tipped his head back to drink, and hurriedly opened his own bottle. Still, knowing the kid wasn't a minor made him feel a little better about being attracted to him. 

"So how old are you, anyway? It's uh… hard to judge." At least twenty-one, he now knew. Surely he wasn't much older than that? Just a few years maybe? 

"Twenty-t'ree." Remy told him, taking another swig of the beer before he found a place to set it down so he could continue working. Logan nodded a little to himself, a little impressed that he'd sort-of guessed as much. God, the kid was young. Well… when he thought about it, he'd been twenty-three when he'd left this town for a better life. "An' what abou' you?" Remy glanced over his shoulder at him. "You gotta be like, what… forty?" Logan had always thought the term 'jaw-dropping' was an over-exaggeration for comedy purposes, but now he knew it was surprisingly accurate. 

" _Forty?_!" He stared at Remy in something between disbelief and horror. "I'm thirty-one!" Remy muttered a quick apology in French, but he was smiling and if Logan wasn't entirely mistaken, the damn kid was laughing, too.  _Cheeky little shit._

"O' course." Remy smirked back at him. "A simple mistake. No offence meant, eh?" 

"Forty…" Logan muttered, taking a long swig of his beer before he got back to work, grumbling under his breath about damn cheeky kids. After a minute or two of silence, he sighed and turned to face Remy. "Do I really look forty?" 

"Non, Logan." Remy laughed, and Logan couldn't help but laugh with him. 

\-- 

Remy, as it turned out, worked pretty fast. Between them they managed to paint all three remaining walls in only a couple of hours – the room itself wasn't particularly big, which probably helped matters a little. Logan took the rollers down to the kitchen to clean them, and Remy trailed after him like a stray cat. Leaving the rollers soaking for now, Logan turned to his unlikely companion. 

"Hey so… you want anything to eat? I mean, I've worked up a hell of an appetite." He shrugged a little. Remy looked conflicted, but the growling of his stomach gave Logan the only answer he needed. "I'll fix us up something. Sit down." He gestured to the kitchen table, and Remy awkwardly slid into one of the chairs, sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest. "I can't promise anything spectacular. I'm still at the level of cooking where I can burn water, so…" 

"How have you survived dis long alone?" Remy muttered, his comment most likely not meant to be heard – but Logan heard it, and he laughed. 

"I, uh… had help for a while." Not wanting the conversation to take another awkward turn, he began rummaging around in his cupboards for something he could make for the two of them. "I pretty much stick to things I can shove in the microwave, and hope for the best." He decided to go with something simple – and he began cooking some bacon. He knew from experience that bacon sandwiches always went down very, very well. 

"You would be locked up fo' crimes against de kitchen back ho-," Remy broke off and awkwardly continued almost immediately. "Back in New Orleans." Remy shook his head a little. "Maybe you should learn to cook when you visit, eh?" 

"Maybe I should." Logan laughed in agreement. Once the bacon was done he made up the sandwiches and carried them to the table, setting a plate in front of Remy. "But for now, you'll have to make do with this." They ate in comfortable silence, Logan only breaking it by getting up to fetch drinks. He liked how it felt so natural to have Remy there, sat at his kitchen table and wearing one of his shirts. 

He cleared the plates away once they were done, setting them to one side to be washed later, and dragged a hand through his hair. Remy was still sat awkwardly in the chair, although he seemed to be comfortable despite the position. 

"Thanks for your help." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, rummaging through until he found a couple of notes, which he held out to him. "Here." 

"Oh…" Remy stared at him, a little surprised, and then slowly rose from the chair. "You don' have to give Remy money." 

"Like hell I don't." Logan smiled, still holding it out to him. "I'd pay anyone else for lending a hand, so why not you? C'mon, it's not much, but…" Very carefully, Remy reached forward and took the money from him. 

"Merci." The money disappeared into the pocket of his jeans, to Logan's relief. He hadn't lied when he'd said he'd pay anyone else, but it  _had_  been an attempt to give some more money to the kid so he didn't have to live on whatever he found in the trash. "Remy should probably be goin'…" Of course. He wouldn't want to stick around too long, would he? 

"Right. I'll, uh… just go grab your stuff." Logan quickly fetched Remy's shirt and jacket from upstairs and handed them over. Remy went to tug the college shirt off, but Logan held up a hand. "Why don't you keep that? I haven't worn it in years. Probably doesn't even fit anymore." He shrugged.  _Plus you look like you need new clothes_ , he added in his head. 

"You sure?" Remy frowned at that, but when Logan merely nodded, he let it go. He tugged his old shirt on over the top, and draped his coat over one arm, hesitating for a moment. "T'ank you, Logan. Fo' bein' nice to Remy." Logan knew what was coming, but it didn't stop him from being surprised as soft lips touched his cheek. It took all of his willpower not to turn his head and capture those lips with his own. 

"You're welcome." He breathed out softly, closing his eyes briefly as Remy lingered a moment more than necessary. Logan gently curled his fingers around Remy's wrist, not a tight enough hold to trap him, but  _just_  enough. He pulled away very slightly, his eyes meeting Remy's, and he was so, so tempted to lean in and kiss him – but no, he couldn't. Remy wasn't his to kiss, and he had to remember that. 

He let Remy go. He knew he had to. He walked him to the front door and watched as he disappeared down the street, until even his coat tails vanished from sight. With a soft groan, he stepped back into the house and closed the door, sinking back against it. 

It was the bad break-up that was to blame for this. It had to be. He'd been left vulnerable and lonely, and he was reaching out to the first person he had a connection with that wasn't one of his oldest friends. It didn't help that Remy was  _beautiful_ , and had the most gorgeous smile, and such endearing little mannerisms… It was the pretty face and the lonely heart that drew him in, but he couldn't let himself get too involved too fast. He couldn't go down that road again. 

He wandered through into the living room and flopped face-first onto the sofa, groaning into the cushion. What had he gotten himself into? 

\-- 

Remy crept into his current shelter after double-checking that no one was watching, and he hurried to his little corner and dropped down onto the floor. Finding this place had been a stroke of luck, and picking the lock had been easy enough. The trouble was keeping himself out of sight so no one knew he was currently occupying the space. If the town knew, they'd evict him and make sure he didn't come back. 

He'd gathered newspapers over time and various bits and pieces from the building itself, and created a somewhat comfortable sleeping space against the one wall. He settled here now, slipping out of his coat and carefully folding it up beside him. His shirt followed next, and he smiled as he brought Logan's shirt up to his face, breathing in the scent that he knew was pure Logan. It brought him comfort – reminding him of the one man who seemed to actually care about his wellbeing. 

He wrapped his arms around himself, the smile widening until it nearly split his face in two, and for the first time since coming to this town, Remy felt like he had a friend. Logan was kind, and sweet, and adorably awkward, and he couldn't wait to find another excuse to spend some time with him. 

Deciding to make the most out of the remaining light, he crawled over to the edge of the room and pulled up the loose floorboard by the wall, reaching inside to dig out the book he'd read cover to cover about fifty times. It wasn't a particular favourite of his, but it was the only thing he had from home, and therefore meant a lot to him. He opened the cover and ran his fingers over the beautifully handwritten message inside.  

_I'm sorry, Papa,_ he sighed softly, clutching the book to his chest. He settled back onto his bed, legs pulled up to his chest as he leant against the wall, and flipped open the book to the first chapter. He might have been living in an abandoned house with no heat or electricity or running water, but he had the comforts of a lost home and of a kind soul, and that was all he needed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy meets Rogue, Charles and Erik have news, and Logan's falling - hard, and fast.

Remy wasn't entirely sure what he was doing in here – usually the closest he got to this quaint little café was the dumpster around the back – but he was hungry and it always smelled delicious here, and he had the money Logan had given him, so why not? 

He'd mostly picked this place because it always seemed very quiet. A lot of the town's kids went to the bigger fast-food chain most of the time, save for a handful who were friends with one of the waitresses. Remy hovered by the door for a moment, the money clutched in one hand so he could produce it if anyone challenged him, and then he drew in a deep breath and pushed open the door, stepping inside.

No one challenged him, or told him to get out. That was a start. His eyes found an empty booth right in the far corner, and so he hurried towards it and sat down, nervously glancing around the room. No one had even really noticed him. That was good. Menus had been placed on each table, and so he idly glanced at it, wondering what to order. Whatever was cheapest sounded good. 

"Well hey there, sugah, what can I get ya?" Remy glanced up, a little startled, and met the gaze of the young waitress he'd seen talking to some of the kids before. She was a pretty girl, and seemed nice enough. Her name tag read 'Rogue', but Remy was almost certain that wasn't her real name. 

"Oh. Um." Remy frantically glanced back at the menu, trying to find the cheapest thing in a matter of seconds.

"Haven't decided yet, huh?" Rogue smiled. "Want me to come back in a couple of minutes?" 

"Uh, well…" Remy chewed nervously on his bottom lip, and then he sighed. "De t'ing is, Remy don' have much money, so…" He opened out his hand, revealing the couple of notes Logan had given him. He waited for the look of pity that Rogue would no doubt try to hide, but instead, she surprised him. 

"You're from Louisiana, ain't ya?" She grinned brightly. "I'd recognise that accent anywhere." Remy found himself smiling back at her – only very slightly, but there was a definite quirk of his lips.

"Oui." He felt a little more comfortable than he had when he first entered, and he knew it was down to the friendly smile and the familiar Southern accent. "An' yo' from Mississippi, righ'?" 

"That's righ'." She laughed. "Well then sugah, I know just what you'll like. You sit tight right here, and I'll be back in five." She jotted something down on the little notepad she carried, and then turned on her heel and stalked away towards the kitchens. Remy settled back against the seat and slid the menu back out of the way. He sank down a little as he realised two young men were staring at him from another booth – and he recognised them. He hoped they wouldn't bother him. 

"Well look who it is." One of them sneered, nudging his friend's shoulder. "Ain't you supposed to be out back going through the trash?" Remy picked at the loose thread on the sleeve of his coat, determined to ignore them. 

"Leave it out, John." His friend sighed. 

"Aw, come on Bobby. Hey hand me that napkin, gimme something to throw at him." John laughed, reaching across the table for the napkin in question. Bobby tried to push it out of his way, but John's fingers caught it and he balled it up, ready to throw it. 

"I see you throw that napkin, John, and you'll be wearing that Coke you ordered." Rogue stalked by, one hand cuffing the back of John's head as she passed him. "Eat your damn burger, okay?" John huffed a little, but he threw the balled up napkin onto the table and went back to his food. Rogue rolled her eyes as she stopped at Remy's table, and she set down a tall glass of Coke in front of him. "Don't you pay any attention to those idiots, sugah. Here, on the house." She gave him a friendly wink as she popped a neon pink straw into the glass. 

"Merci…" He gave her a smile, and she returned it before turning to return to the kitchens. He sat forward, pinching the straw between thumb and forefinger, and he swirled the Coke with it, three ice cubes clinking against the glass as he did so. Perhaps coming here had been a very good idea, after all. He sipped the Coke very slowly, wanting it to last as long as possible since he didn't know if he'd be able to afford another. When Rogue finally returned once more, she was carrying a dish containing something that smelled delicious – and like home. 

"Here you are, sugah." She grinned as she set it down. "Cajun Jambalaya, extra spicy." She watched his face light up at the sight, and considered it a success. "It's not something we usually serve here, but… I put in a good word to the chef. Enjoy!" Before Remy could thank her again, she was off to serve someone else. 

He took a moment to simply breathe in the aroma of the food, and he sighed happily. Yes… this was home. He remembered helping to cook Jambalaya with his father, learning the technique step by step until he was allowed to try it by himself. He'd found a passion for cooking in the years he spent in the LeBeau household, something his father had been very pleased about. 

The first mouthful was delicious, and transported him back to the dining table at home, sat beside his father. The second mouthful brought tears to his eyes – tears he refused to shed in public. It wasn't as good as his Papa's Jambalaya, of course, but it made him miss home even more.

Once he'd finished, Rogue came by to take away his empty dish and he thanked her, holding out the money to her. She only took one of the notes, and Remy was sure that would certainly not be enough to pay for everything – but she moved away before he could insist she take more, and he watched her pull another note out of her own pocket before she put the money in the till. Remy immediately felt awful. He felt bad enough whenever Logan gave him money for anything, and now someone was paying for his lunch out of their own pocket. 

He hurriedly finished his Coke when he saw John glaring at him from his booth, and he picked up the empty glass and took it to the counter, setting it down loud enough to get Rogue's attention. 

"T'ank you fo' everyt'in'." He murmured quietly.

"You're welcome, sugah." Rogue watched him turn and exit the café quickly, and sighed. She knew John and Bobby gave him a hard time on occasion, and she'd seen him wandering the town a lot, looking lost. She couldn't imagine it was easy being homeless, let alone homeless in a town where people didn't trust or like you. 

"That the kid you ordered the Jambalaya for?" She turned, giving a smile to Warren, one of the chefs. "Isn't he the homeless thief?"

"You shouldn't call him that." She grabbed the cloth draped over Warren's shoulder, and whacked him with it. "Surely you can sympathise with him? No home, no family, no friends… he's just trying to stay alive." 

"Yeah, well… if he keeps it up, someone's gonna turn him out of this town." Warren shrugged, taking the cloth back and heading back towards the kitchens. "I know you've got a gentle heart, Rogue, but don't waste it on hopeless cases." Rogue rolled her eyes and turned back to watch the guy disappear off down the street. 

"What if he's not a hopeless case?" 

\--

Logan stepped out of the local mechanics' garage with a smile on his face and a job under his belt. He'd been working some more on his bike when Scott had dropped by and mentioned that the mechanic in town was advertising a job vacancy, and Logan had decided to wander on down and see what exactly they required. As it turned out, he was more than qualified for the job – and whilst being a mechanic hadn't been his dream job and certainly hadn't been why he moved to the big city, it was a source of income. 

Plus he'd be working with bikes and cars and he'd always loved to do that in his own time, so at least it was a job he'd enjoy. He'd thank Scott later for telling him about it. He was in high spirits as he made his way home – stopping by the store to pick up another six-pack of beer, intending to work some more on his bike when he returned. Remy was perched on his wall when he pulled into the driveway, and he grinned as he stepped out of his truck. 

"Hey. What brings you here?" He wandered over and sat beside him on the wall, pleased that Remy didn't even flinch at the sudden close contact. 

"Jus'… got not'in' else to do." Remy shrugged, giving Logan a little smile. "You don' mind, do you?" 

"No, of course not." He nudged Remy's shoulder with his own, very gently. "I'm actually gonna be working on my bike, so it'd be nice to have the company." He stood, hopping over the wall so he could wander over to his garage to fetch the bike. When he glanced back, Remy had turned so he was facing into the yard, still perched on the wall. "Uh, how's your day been…?" It felt like a stupid question, but it was something he would have asked 'Ro, or any of his other friends. 

"Like any ot'er day." He shrugged, watching Logan wheel the bike out to the middle of the yard. "Yo' in a good mood, eh?" 

"Got myself a job." Logan told him as he went to fetch his tools. 

"Congrats." Remy smiled over at him, running a hand through his hair. "Doin' what?" 

"Mechanic." He explained, crouching beside the bike and inspecting it. "Nothing big, but it'll do. Plus I do sorta know what I'm doing." He laughed. 

"Remy's sure dat helps, oui." Was it his imagination, or did Remy just sass him? Logan merely rolled his eyes, and got to work on the bike. "How long have you been workin' on dis bike?"

"Since I was a kid, really. My dad gave it to me for my thirteenth birthday – it really was just a useless hunk of scrap back then – and told me that if I could build it up and get it working again, he'd pay for my driving lessons and the insurance." Logan fetched the six-pack from his truck and set it down, offering one out to Remy. 

"So, what happened? 'Cause dis don' look finished to Remy." He took the can, and sat down on the grass beside the bike. 

"Oh, well. I got it running, mostly, but I told him I wasn't happy with it – he still paid for my driving lessons, though. And then… well, he died, and never got to see it finished, and then I moved away and it got left in the garage until… well, now." Logan shrugged, taking a swig from his own can. "So I figured I'd get her finished for old time's sake. Plus she's a beautiful bike." 

"She is." Remy agreed, reaching out to gently touch a section of shining chrome. "Remy's sure you'll enjoy ridin' her when she's done." 

"I took her for a quick spin once I got her running." Logan grinned. "She handles like a beauty." 

"Papa had a bike." Remy was focused entirely on the bike in front of him, very carefully running his hands over it. "An' one time he sat Remy in front o' him an' helped him drive it aroun' de street." 

"Sounds like a great guy." Logan smiled, sitting back to enjoy his beer. "Were you close, then?" 

"Oui." Remy nodded. "Remy loves his Papa." 

"So what happened…?" Logan gently rested a hand on Remy's shoulder, knowing this was a risky conversation. "What brought you here, Remy?" He felt the kid tense a little. 

"It's a long story." He shrugged it off, drinking from his can. "It's not de time fo' stories now." Logan knew better than to argue, and so he nodded, and went back to working on the bike, trying to think of a better subject for them to talk about – something that would bring Remy's spirits back up. 

"So tell me some more about New Orleans." 

An hour later and the bike sat, forgotten, whilst Logan listened to Remy talk about the French Quarter, the nightlife of Bourbon Street, and the Old Opera House bar where his father used to take him from time to time to listen to a band he was on friendly terms with. He also listed other drinking establishments where he used to sneak in to play poker – Bourbon Heat, Maison Bourbon, Tropical Isle, amongst others – and Larry Flynt's Hustler Club, where he'd first earned the nickname 'Gambit'. 

"But de best place to go fo' good food was La Bayou." Remy told him, actually grinning now. "Papa knew de manager, so Remy always got a dessert on de house." 

"It sounds like a really great place." Logan crumpled his third can and tossed it onto the pile between them. "So… you were sneaking into bars to play poker? How old were you?" 

"Sixteen." Remy shrugged one shoulder. "No one ever t'rew Remy out, so he kept goin' back." 

"Not even when you were kickin' everyone's asses at poker and taking all their money?" Logan laughed. 

"Non. De ot'er players knew dat Remy had won fair an' square." Remy smirked now. "Most o' de time." Logan raised his eyebrows, and laughed again.

"You telling me you cheated, too?" Remy tried to look shocked, but he couldn't hide the cheeky little grin on his face. 

"Only sometimes." 

"You're gonna have to teach me how to do that." Logan grinned back at him. "We used to play poker, me and the others, only we didn't always play for money. I was never particularly good." 

"Remy can always teach you to be better, non? Remy's been playin' poker since he was ten." He shrugged again. "It's easy if you got de face fo' it." 

"Well… maybe you'll have to teach me, yeah." Logan nodded. "I'd like to get one up on Charles. He always used to win." 

"Den Remy will help." He smiled, finishing off his third can, too, and putting it in the pile. 

"So was it your-," Logan broke off as he watched Ororo's car pull into her driveway, and he stood up, brushing his jeans down as he did so. 

"Logan!" She called to him with a smile, stepping over the wall to greet him. "Ah, good. I was hoping you were home. Charles has invited us out for dinner, that nice new place in town. He says he has some big news and he wants to share it with everyone, so I told him I'd let you know." She frowned a little, looking over his shoulder, and Logan turned and smiled at Remy, who was now standing just behind him. "Oh. I didn't know you had… company." 

"Oh, yeah…" Logan glanced between them, and noticed how Remy seemed to be hiding behind him, looking rather nervous. "We were having a nice chat." He shrugged one shoulder. "So what time are we meeting everyone?" 

"Charles has made a booking for seven." She seemed a little uncomfortable now, and her eyes kept going back to Remy. "Shall we head in together or do you want to make your own way?" 

"Seems pointless to go separately, right?" Logan smiled. "Just knock on my door when you want to leave and I'll be ready." 

"Alright." She smiled now. "I'll see you just before seven, then." She turned, stepping over the wall once more, and disappearing into the house. Logan sighed, turning back to Remy. 

"Maybe Remy should go…" He looked uncomfortable, too. 

"You don't have to. She just… wasn't expecting to see you, that's all." Logan put a hand on his shoulder again, and gave him a friendly smile. "Don't let it bother you." 

"Well, even so… you gotta get all dressed up fo' dinner, eh? Remy should leave you to it." He wanted to leave, Logan could tell. Well, if that would make him feel better, he wasn't going to stop him. 

"True. Alright, well… don't be stranger, okay?" He grinned, squeezing his shoulder a little before he released him.

"Don' worry. Remy won't be." He gave Logan a soft smile, and then he stepped over the wall and started off down the street. Logan watched him for a moment, and then he bent to pick up the empty cans. If he was gonna get sorted for dinner tonight, he needed to put the bike away now and get himself into the shower. 

\--

It was definitely good to be back amongst the old crowd, even if they'd all grown up now. Gone were the days when they could sit around in the park and do nothing but listen to music and share a few beers, talking about the latest rumours they'd heard around the town. Now, instead, they sat around a table drinking wine and discussing the latest developments in their individual jobs. How times changed. 

"So come on then Charles, what's this big news of yours?" Jean asked after their food had arrived. Charles took a sip of his wine, and then grinned brightly, taking Erik's hand. 

"Well… after some debate, Erik and I have decided to move our relationship a step forward." 

"… You're moving in together?" Scott raised an eyebrow, as if to say 'that's what all the fuss is over?' Erik laughed a little, and shook his head. 

"Bit further than that, actually." He glanced fondly at Charles, pulling his hand free to smooth back a stray strand of his hair, resting his hand against the back of his neck comfortably. "We're getting married." Immediately the table erupted with noise as everyone hurried to congratulate them, and then the questions came. Logan fell silent, waiting for everyone else to get it out of their system first. 

"It happened earlier. Erik asked if I could stop by the station for a moment, and when I got there two officers in his department told me they had to ask me some questions about a case they'd caught, and hauled me into the interview room. I was ready to demand a phone call when in strolls Erik and tells me he has one very important question for me – and then he gets down on one knee and asks me to marry him. I could have killed him." Charles laughed, leaning in to give him a quick kiss. 

"I'm surprised you didn't." Raven smirked, picking up her wine glass. "So, a toast. To Charles and Erik." Everyone lifted their glasses and toasted to them, and there was a brief silence as they drank. 

"This is fantastic news indeed." Ororo smiled as they began to eat. "I'm sure I'm not the only one who was wondering when you two would reach this stage in your relationship. It's been long enough!" She laughed. 

"Well, the wait is over." Charles grinned. 

"Does this mean you're gonna be moving in?" Raven quirked an eyebrow, but she was smiling. "Or is Charles moving in with you, and I get that big house all to myself?"

"Not a chance, Raven." Charles rolled his eyes at her, and she retaliated by sticking out her tongue. Logan watched the interaction with an amused smile – they had a wonderful bond. "We're gonna start making the plans as soon as possible, but I think we can safely say you're all invited." He grinned. "And if you need a plus one, just say the word." 

"Perhaps Logan might." Ororo smiled knowingly, and he shot her a look and wished he could kick her under the table. 

"Oh?" And now all the attention was on him. "Logan? Is there something you're not telling us?" Jean looked positively thrilled at this new development, and Scott simply looked amused. 

"No. There's-," he sighed. "I don't know what 'Ro is talking about." He hurriedly went back to his food, but he knew they wouldn't be satisfied with that. Instead of pressing him further, they merely turned to Ororo instead. 

"Well if he won't tell us…" Erik smirked at Logan across the table. "Care to explain further, Ororo?" 

"Oh, well… he was just getting very comfortable with someone earlier." Logan felt himself blushing, and willed the ground to open up and swallow him before anyone noticed. Of  _course_  she was talking about Remy. Who else would it be? 

"Is that so?" Charles was still grinning, and Logan tried not to notice how everyone was looking at him again. 

"I do believe you're blushing, Logan." Scott laughed, setting his cutlery down on his empty plate. "So who is this mysterious someone?" 

"It wouldn't happen to be that homeless kid, would it?" Erik asked, finishing off his wine. "You seemed pretty protective over him that day in the store." Okay, yes he was definitely blushing and it was definitely obvious.

"Really? That 'Gambit' boy?" Jean raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Logan…?" 

"Look, I'm just being nice to him, okay?" Logan sighed, finishing off his food and wiping his mouth with the napkin. "Since no one else here seems to care." That silenced the table. "Can we talk about something else now?" Raven was the first one to speak, asking for more details about the proposal – more to the point she wanted to know every embarrassing detail about how Charles had reacted to being thrown in an interview room without so much as an explanation as to why. 

When the group decided to move on to a bar to celebrate the new engagement, Logan excused himself. The conversation from dinner had made him uncomfortable, and he wasn't up to celebrating. Ororo offered to drive him home, but he told her not to worry – he could walk home, and she should stay and have fun. He congratulated Erik and Charles one last time, and then they went their separate ways. 

If Logan was honest with himself, it wasn't everyone's attitude towards Remy that had bothered him the most. Whilst he was a little angry that no one else seemed to give the poor kid a chance, it was actually the thought of going to Charles and Erik's wedding with Remy on his arm that had got to him the most. 

Because he actually rather liked the idea. 

Just about as much as he liked the idea of kissing Remy, and holding his hand, and taking him to nice places. He liked the idea of Remy being his, which was ridiculous because Remy couldn't possibly be interested in him and he was probably too old for him even if that were the case. Once again he told himself it was his broken heart that made him so vulnerable, but he knew it was just a way to try and cover up the fact that he was very fond of Remy. 

He made it back to his house faster than he'd thought he would – and he was thankful, because the skies were dark and it felt like it might rain. He wondered if he should have stayed, at least for a couple of beers with the boys, but it was too late now. He rummaged in his pockets for his house keys, sighing in frustration when they weren't in his pockets. It was only when he'd checked all of them that he remembered exactly where they were – in the pocket of his jacket, which he'd thrown in the backseat of Ororo's car. Along with his phone. 

"Shit." He tried opening the door just because – but no, he'd locked it. He did a quick circle of the house, looking for an open window, and he tried the back door along the way, but no such luck. " _Shit_." 

And just his luck, the heavens opened, and it started raining. 

"Oh, fucking wonderful." 

\-- 

Remy was hurrying along the street, his coat pulled up over his head, although it provided little cover from the rain. He'd been looking for fresh newspapers when it had begun to rain, and now he was desperate to get back to his shelter before he became too soaked through. He slowed down as he recognised the man sat upon the step outside his house, soaked through and looking miserable, and he hesitated at the end of the drive.

"Logan?" Logan looked up at the sound of his name, and even from this distance Remy could see the look of surprise. "Why are you sittin' out in de rain?" He frowned, taking a step towards him. "Are you locked out?" 

"Yup." Logan called back, looking even more miserable. "My keys and my phone are both in the back of Ororo's car, and she's probably gonna be gone for a couple of hours, at least." 

"Why haven' you gone to a friend's, or… somewhere else?" 

"All of my friends are out with 'Ro, and… because I didn't think of that." He sighed, dragging his fingers through his wet hair. 

"Well… if you like… Remy could get yo' door open fo' you?" The question was posed awkwardly, as if Remy didn't particularly want to make the offer. It didn't take a genius to work out why. 

"You can do that?" Logan asked warily. "Are you… asking if I want you to break into my house?" He winced – that was probably the wrong thing to say, especially since Remy had already been branded a thief by the town. 

"It's better dan you sittin' out in de rain, gettin' sick, non?" Remy shrugged. "De offer's dere, Logan." 

"… Damnit, alright." He stood up, wincing again as his wet shirt shifted against him, the icy-cold fabric sticking to his skin. "Thanks."

"Jus'… wait here. Remy will be righ' back." Before Logan could say another word, the kid was running off, and he disappeared into the rain. Logan sighed, and sat back down on the step to wait for him. Remy was gone for several minutes before he appeared, running up the driveway towards Logan, something grasped in one hand. 

"You sure you can get the door open?" 

"Stand back, an' let Remy work, oui?" He gave Logan a smile, and he stepped up to the door – and Logan realised what he was holding. 

"Is that a lockpick?" He blinked, surprised. "Remy have you… have you done this before?" 

"Only when dere's no ot'er way." Remy admitted reluctantly. "Remy don' like stealin', y'understand, but sometimes… sometimes he has to, to stay alive. So oui, Remy's done dis befo'." He set to work, carefully trying to pick the lock. 

"Well, hey, if it gets my door open, I don't care." He gave Remy a smile, hoping it would comfort him to know that he didn't think any differently of him. After all, Remy had already admitted once that he sometimes stole things when he really needed to. The fact that he could pick locks like this was actually a little impressive, and certainly handy for him right now. He watched him work for a moment longer, and then the door was springing open. "Wow… that was fast." 

"Remy's good at what he does." Remy shrugged. "So, dere you go. Get inside an' get dry, non?" Remy turned, as if meaning to walk away, and Logan quickly reached out and caught his arm. 

"And where do you think you're going?" He asked with a smile. 

"Well… Remy was gonna-," 

"Head back out into the pouring rain? Oh no, not on my watch." Logan stepped inside, and gave Remy a gentle tug until he followed. "Look, I know you had to go back to wherever you stay at night to get the lockpick. You could have stayed there, where it was dry, but instead you came back out to help me – and if it weren't for you, I'd be sat on my step getting wetter and wetter until Ororo finally came home. So the least I can do now is give you something dry to wear and a hot drink." 

"You really don' have to…" Remy knew it was pointless to argue, because Logan was already shutting the door behind him. "Yo' far too kind to Remy." 

"Just giving you what you deserve, kid." Logan smiled. "Now, uh… come upstairs, we'll find you something to wear and you can dry off, too." He led the way up the stairs, and Remy hovered awkwardly in the doorway to Logan's bedroom whilst the older man rummaged in his drawers. Eventually he pulled out a t-shirt and a pair of flannel pj trousers that he hadn't worn in some time, and he held them out to him. "These should be alright." Remy took the clothes from him, and Logan stepped past him to open the bathroom door. "And uh, here." He grabbed a towel, handing that over, too. "Dry yourself off, and get changed. I'll put your wet clothes out to dry for you." 

Remy stepped into the bathroom and slowly peeled off his wet clothes, folding them awkwardly. He used the towel Logan had given him to hurriedly dry himself off, and then he temporarily wrapped it around his dripping hair. He paused, catching his reflection in the mirror – his eyes finding the bruises and the scars that marred his skin – and he sighed. He tore his gaze away and pulled the flannel trousers on, having to tie the drawstrings quite tight to stop them from slipping down his hips. He smiled at the sight of them – they were actually somewhat adorable, pale grey with dark grey pawprints all over them. He wondered what they'd look like on Logan, and the thought caused his smile to widen into a grin. The shirt was plain grey, and huge on him, but it was comfortable and warm and dry, and it smelled of Logan, just like the college shirt Logan had given him the other day. 

He pulled the towel from his hair and winced at the state of it. He furiously rubbed the towel over his head, hoping to dry it somewhat, and then he combed his fingers through it, hoping to neaten it up. He was suddenly rather self-conscious about how he looked in Logan's presence, and he didn't want to think too closely about why. Such thoughts were dangerous. Satisfied with his appearance, he draped the towel around his neck and picked up his wet clothes, and he stepped out of the bathroom and made his way to Logan's bedroom. 

He stopped, swallowing thickly, as he caught sight of Logan in the middle of re-dressing. 

Thankfully he'd already pulled on a dry pair of jeans, but he'd neglected a shirt as he attempted to rub-dry his hair, and Remy's eyes traced the firm muscle of his chest and arms while he had the chance. He felt himself blushing, and he awkwardly cleared his throat. 

"Oh, all done?" Logan turned, smiling once more, and he tossed the towel down onto the bedroom floor before grabbing a shirt and tugging it on over his head. Remy kept his eyes averted, not trusting himself not to blush once more. "Here, give me those, I'll put them out to dry." Logan took the wet clothes from him and gathered up his own, and Remy awkwardly followed him back downstairs, still thinking about how toned and firm Logan had looked. 

"You don' have to do dis, Logan…" Logan wasn't hearing it, however. 

"Take a seat." He told Remy as he led him into the living room. "I'll make some cocoa to warm us up." Remy smiled as he watched him wander into the kitchen, and he settled down on the sofa quite happily. It felt oddly natural to be here, curled up on Logan's sofa and wearing Logan's clothes, whilst the man in question made cocoa. It was very… domestic. 

Logan set their clothes out to dry, hanging up Remy's coat with great care, and then set about making the cocoa. He had no idea how Remy liked to drink it, or even if he had a preference, and so he simply made it the way he liked it, and hoped for the best. He carried the two mugs through, taking a seat beside Remy as he held out one to him. 

"T'ank you, Logan. For dis." Remy smiled as he took the offered mug, wrapping his hands around it gratefully. "It's very kind."

"The least I can do." Logan sipped it, sighing as the warmth snaked its way through him. "Ah, that's better." Remy followed suit, taking a careful sip. Logan glanced at him when he made a soft sound of surprise. "What?"

"Did… did you put cinnamon in dis?" Remy spoke so softly, and Logan immediately worried that he'd done something wrong. 

"Yeah, I did… oh, sorry, do you not like cinnamon? I can make you another-," 

"Non, non… Remy likes it…" Remy gave him a quick smile, but it was a sad one, and Logan's heart ached a little for him. "It's jus'… dat's de way Papa made it." 

"Oh…" Logan set his mug down and turned a little more towards him, reaching out and putting an arm around his shoulders. "You really miss him, huh?" Remy didn't speak, only nodded. "Then why can't you just go home?" 

"Remy can' ever go home, Logan." He sipped the cocoa again, needing the warmth and the comfort it offered. It was exactly the way his Papa used to make it, and it brought back memories of cuddling up in bed when he'd woken from a nightmare, his Papa's arms around him and a mug of Papa's cocoa to soothe his fears. "Remy did a bad t'ing, an' Papa won' want him dere." 

"Well I can't believe that." Logan smiled a little. "You said you were adopted by him, right?" When Remy nodded, he went on. "Well, if he didn't want you there, why'd he adopt you? The way I see it… he  _chose_  you. You're his son because he wanted you to be." Remy turned to him now, eyes shining with what could only be unshed tears, and Logan gently lifted his free hand to cup Remy's cheek. "Hey… don't be upset…" 

Logan was suddenly rather aware of how close they were – he could feel Remy's breath against his skin, and he could see flecks of a deeper red in his irises. Was it his imagination, or was Remy leaning in closer? 

"Logan…" Just the sound of his name, murmured so softly, almost sent a shiver down Logan's spine. 

"Shh…" He wanted to close the gap, and he wondered if that's what Remy wanted, too. He leant in a little closer, and watched as Remy's eyelids fluttered closed, and he knew that this was happening.  

And then someone knocked upon the door.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many things are revealed, and a step forward is taken.

They both jerked apart sharply, and Logan felt his face burning as he stood up quickly, muttering an awkward apology as he strode to the front door. Part of him wanted to tear it open and rip into the person who'd interrupted at a crucial moment, but he knew he couldn't. Especially when he discovered that it was Ororo who had knocked. 

"Oh, thank god." She sighed, and when he simply stared at her she lifted one hand to reveal his jacket, which jingled slightly when she shook it. "When I saw this in the back of my car I knew you'd gone home without your keys, so I tried to call you – but then your jacket pocket started ringing." 

"Uh, yeah. Left it in the pocket." Logan rubbed at the back of his neck as he gave her a sheepish smile. 

"I worked that out." She rolled her eyes at him. "I got worried that you'd be sat outside your house in the rain, so I came straight here. How'd you get in?" 

"Oh." Logan knew he couldn't tell her the truth – that the town thief had picked the lock on his front door. "Left a window open around the back. I'll probably have some bruises to show for it." 

"Well, at least you got in." She laughed a little. "I still feel a little bad though." She handed over the jacket to him, and then made to step inside. Logan hurriedly tried to think of a reason to stop her, but by the time he came up with a lame excuse, she was already heading towards the living room. "Let me make you some coffee or something." 

"No, 'Ro, that's okay, really." Logan closed the front door and tossed his jacket down, hurrying after her. He reached out to catch her arm before she stepped through into the living room, but it was too late. She came to a rather sudden stop, and Logan inwardly groaned. She'd seen Remy. 

"Oh. It appears you have company again." She turned to him, one eyebrow raised. Remy, who had previously looked somewhat comfortable on his sofa, now looked incredibly awkward and out of place. 

"Kitchen." Logan muttered to her, catching her by the elbow and leading her through before she could protest. He glanced back to give Remy a smile he hoped was comforting just as he led her through the door. "Okay, I can explain-," 

"What is he doing here, Logan?" She hissed, keeping her voice low so Remy wouldn't hear. "And in your clothes, I might add." 

"Okay, look… I don't want you to jump to any conclusions here because he did me a favour and that's it, but… alright, I didn't get in through an open window." He sighed. "I was sat on the front step looking like a miserable wet dog and he happened to wander by and… and he got my door open for me." 

"He got your door open… what does that even mean, Logan? Are you telling me he broke into your house?" He could hear outrage creeping into her voice now, and he quickly hushed her. 

"Only because I asked him to, okay? And if it weren't for him, I'd still have been sat out there when you dropped by to give me my keys." Logan turned from her, dragging a hand through his hair. "Look, I know that everyone seems to think he's a bad person, nothing but trouble, and a thief, but that's not who he is. He's just a homeless kid with nowhere to go and no one to turn to, and he went out of his way to help me tonight." 

"By breaking into your house, Logan. And considering the lack of damage to your door, I can only assume he was rather professional about it. Doesn't that say something?" 

"So the kid knows how to pick a lock. That doesn't make him a criminal, Ororo." He sighed again. "Think what you like about him, but I know he's not what everyone says he is." 

"And you're certain he's not just playing you, Logan?" When he glanced at her in disbelief, she held up her hand quickly to silence him before he could respond. "I'm not saying that's the case, and honestly even I don't believe he'd be that kind of person. I just… I just want you to be careful. I know you came back here with a broken heart and I don't want you to end up getting hurt again." 

"Why would I get hurt, 'Ro? I'm just being friendly to someone who needs it." Logan hoped that hadn't sounded as defensive as it felt, but from the look on Ororo's face he knew it had. 

"How long have I known you, Logan?" 

"I don't know… since we were kids barely tall enough to reach our parents' knees?" He shrugged, not actually knowing when it was that he'd befriended Ororo – the memories all blurred together, indistinguishable from one another. 

"And you really think I can't read you like a book?" She smiled now, gently, and placed a hand on his arm. "You've got him curled up on your sofa, wearing your clothes and drinking from your favourite mug, and you're defending him to anyone who speaks against him. The most skittish young man I've ever seen is comfortable enough to be close to you, to let you take care of him." She glanced back through to the living room, watching Remy sip from the mug carefully, his knees now pulled up to his chest. "And he hasn't run away yet. I know you, Logan. I've watched you fall for someone before, and I know the signs." 

"I just want to help him, 'Ro. He needs someone, and I'm all there is. Everyone else has already written him off, and… yeah, maybe I'm a little fond of him already, but he's a sweet kid, really." Logan smiled a little. "Actually he's a sassy little shit when he wants to be, but most of the time he's alright." 

"Just… be careful, okay?" She leant in to kiss his cheek. "I'll leave the two of you in peace." He nodded, and followed her back through into the living room. To Logan's surprise she actually gave Remy a smile and a slight wave as she headed towards the front door. "I'll be seeing you soon, Logan." 

"Yeah." He called after her. "Thanks for dropping my jacket back." She gave him a proper wave before she disappeared out the front door, and silence fell after the sound of it closing behind her. "Sorry about that…" 

"Non, dere's not'in' to be sorry fo'." Remy shrugged, sipping the cocoa again. "Guessin' she weren' too happy abou' Remy breakin' in, eh?" 

"Did you… did you hear the conversation?" Logan's insides clenched in slight panic – whilst he'd feel bad about the comments Ororo had made, it was the fear of Remy overhearing the other half of the conversation that had him so worried. 

"Non." Remy shook his head. "Well, a lil', but only when you told her abou' Remy pickin' de lock." Logan relaxed with an inward sigh of relief. That would been embarrassing, and very awkward. 

"Sorry. I guess people just… assume the worst about something like that." He hesitantly took a seat beside him again, wondering if he should bring up what had almost happened between them before they were interrupted. 

"It's okay. Remy's used to dat." When Remy leant against him very slightly, Logan smiled. "T'ank you, fo' defendin' him." 

"You're welcome, Remy." He turned his head and pressed his lips to his coppery-auburn hair – only a light touch, but it was enough. Remy pressed closer to him, and one hand found Logan's, his fingers lightly stroking over his. Logan smiled against his hair and carefully turned his hand over until Remy's lay nestled within his. "You can stay here until the rain stops, if you like." 

"Merci." Remy murmured softly, his head dropping to rest against Logan's shoulder. Very carefully, Logan took the mug from him and set it down, and then draped his arm around Remy's shoulders and pulled him just that little bit closer, smiling when Remy settled comfortably against him. 

He thought about what Ororo had said to him. He'd told her the truth – he was fond of Remy, and he wanted to help – but maybe there was something more to it, too. There was no denying that he found him attractive, of course, but was it more than that? Was Ororo right in saying he was falling for Remy? 

If he continued down this road it was only going to bring up bad memories, and things he would rather not think about. He hated to admit it, but the break-up had damaged him more than he had first thought. It wasn't often Logan gave his heart to someone, and so it appeared he suffered all the more when it was broken. 

Determined to distract his mind from such things, he glanced down at Remy, about to suggest they watch some TV or talk or _something_ that didn't involve him getting lost in tainted memories – and to his surprise he found Remy asleep against him, his breathing soft and relaxed, and his face peaceful. He smiled, carefully lifting a hand to gently stroke his hair. It was still a little damp from the rain, and so he swept it away from the back of his neck, letting it fall over one shoulder. 

"Christ, you're beautiful." Logan breathed out with a sigh, carefully shifting his weight until he was settled comfortable against the sofa, hoping the movement didn't wake Remy – he clearly needed the rest, and it was the least Logan could do. Remy didn't wake, but he stirred a little and almost nuzzled closer, content and comfortable. Logan watched him sleep for a few minutes, realising that this was the most at peace he'd ever seen the kid, and then he found himself closing his own eyes, and drifting off. 

\-- 

He woke rather suddenly when the body against him jerked sharply, accompanied by a quiet cry of distress. Logan had spent enough sleepless nights with his mother to know what a nightmare sounded like, and he was used to waking at the slightest hint of one. He was instantly alert, his arms tightening around Remy just enough to perhaps let him know he wasn't alone without being constricting and running the risk of him feeling trapped. 

"Hey, hey… it's okay…" He murmured soothingly, one hand twisting into his hair gently. "It's just a dream, Remy. It can't hurt you." Remy settled very slightly, but he still wore an expression of distress, and one hand clutched at Logan's shirt tightly, desperately. Logan caught it in one of his own, holding gently but firmly. "I'm right here." 

He didn't look at the pale scars upon Remy's skin, or the slowly fading yellow bruises. He didn't think about where either might have come from, or the stories behind them – but they made him angry, deep down inside. That someone would lay harmful hands upon him made him furious. The scars were old, but the bruises were still fresh. Someone in this town had inflicted them – Remy wasn't a clumsy one, and Logan was very familiar with the type of bruises inflicted by fists, or a boot. Victor had beaten up enough kids back when they'd been in school, and he'd fought with him on many occasions because of it. 

"Logan…?" He glanced down at the tentative voice, and gave Remy a warm smile, still holding his hand within his. 

"Hey." He watched Remy sit up a little, using his free hand to rub at his face. "You alright?" 

"Oui." Remy glanced about for a moment, as if he'd forgotten where he was, and then he returned his gaze to Logan. "Sorry… didn' mean to fall asleep on you…" 

"Don't apologise. Looked like you needed it." Logan smiled again. "And besides, think I fell asleep myself." He paused, weighing the atmosphere around them, and then he spoke again. "Do you get nightmares often?" 

"Sometimes." Remy admitted after a long pause. "T'ank you… fo' bein' dere." Remy's fingers tightened around Logan's hand, squeezing gently. 

"You're welcome." Logan wasn't sure who leant in first, but it didn't matter. When his lips touched Remy's, nothing else mattered. It was a shy kiss, almost – soft and gentle and very sweet, and over far too soon. They parted but remained close, and Logan met Remy's eyes, licking his lips as if to taste him. "Remy…" He wanted so much to kiss him again, to kiss him until he physically couldn't kiss him more, but something held him back – and he knew just what it was. Remy could see it on Logan's face, in his eyes, and so he settled back a little, still holding Logan's hand in his own. 

"What's wrong?" He asked softly, holding Logan's gaze. "Remy's sorry 'bout de kiss, he shouldn' have-," 

"No." Logan quickly cut in. "No, that's… never apologise for that." He managed a smile, and gave his hand a slight squeeze. "It's just… it's just difficult for me, at the moment, I guess. I'm still, uh… recovering, I suppose." 

"Recoverin'?" Remy's expression turned to one of concern, and only made Logan want to kiss him even more. "Did someone hurt you?" 

"Yeah… yeah you could say that." Logan admitted with a slight, bitter laugh. "Three years and it just gets thrown back in my face." He broke off sharply, and sighed. "I'm sorry, you probably don't want to hear this…" 

"Non…" Remy inched a bit closer, taking Logan's other hand in his own. "Sometimes it helps to talk, non? If you want to, dat is. Remy's good at listenin'." Logan hesitated – he hadn't told anyone more than they needed to know, mostly because he was afraid of digging up all the heartache he'd furiously tried to bury - but Remy was right. Maybe it would help to talk about it, finally, and who better than someone who was little more than a stranger? 

"His name was Wade." Logan began with a heavy sigh. "And I hated him the first time I met him. He was arrogant and full of himself and he never shut up for even a second, and he drove me insane. We worked together – well, we were in the same department, but I'd never have said we were a team. Forced together on occasion, but never for very long. I think everyone knew that was just asking for trouble." 

"An' did he feel de same way 'bout you?" Remy asked with a slight smile, and Logan actually found himself returning it. 

"Oh yes. We hated each other. Well… Wade didn't really hate people, but he didn't like them either. To him, colleagues were just stepping stones he could walk over to get his own way, and he wasn't afraid to admit that. Only I wouldn't let him walk over me, so we butted heads on more than one occasion." He was definitely smiling now, remembering how much he'd hated the cocky little shit during that first year on the job. 

"So what happened? How'd you get from hatin' each ot'er to… well, y'know?" 

"We got stuck in an elevator." When Remy laughed, Logan laughed with him – and it felt really good, too. "We were in there for a good few hours whilst they tried to get us out, and for the first hour Wade didn't shut up even for a second. I'm amazed he ever stopped to breathe, come to think of it." He shook his head, remembering how he'd paced the length of the elevator whilst Wade had rambled on about anything and everything he could think of. "But after that first hour, I think panic began to set in, as it does. He fell silent for the first time since I'd known him, and the silence was so unnerving that I ended up taking over the conversation. I found myself telling him things about myself that I'd reserve only for friends, including an embarrassing story about a disaster of a date I'd had earlier that year." 

"Well, dat's gon' be a story fo' anot'er time." Remy smirked. "Remy won' fo'get it." 

"Damn." Logan grinned. "Shouldn't have mentioned that. Anyway… Wade started talking again, but it was different. This time it was personal stuff, nothing he could consider bragging or showing off. I actually met the real Wade, as cliché as that sounds. Anyway after we got out he dropped by my office after work hours were over and invited me out for a drink – Survivor's Celebration he called it. I figured it couldn't hurt to have one drink with him all things considered, so I accepted." 

"An' den?" 

"Well… I wasn't alone when I woke up the next morning. It was a bit awkward to start with. I'd never had a one-night stand or anything before so I wasn't even sure what the rules were, but we ended up going for coffee and a bit of breakfast before heading into work, and then… another drink after work turned into grabbing lunch together and then that turned into going for dinner." This was where he knew it was going to get painful, and he took a deep breath before continuing. "Wade didn't really know how to do dates, but he tried, and that made everything just that little bit better. Almost a year into it and he asked me to move in with him." 

"Remy's guessin' you did, eh?" Remy could see the pain already creeping into Logan's eyes, and he chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. "You got a drink or somet'in'?" Logan blinked, glad for the temporary distraction. 

"Uh, sure… that sounds like a really good idea. You got a preference?" He rose from the sofa, bending to pick up the abandoned mugs of cocoa on the coffee table. 

"Remy'll drink whatever yo' drinkin'. He don' mind." Remy called after him as Logan headed into the kitchen. When he returned a couple of minutes later, he handed a glass of whiskey to him. 

"I think this merits the good stuff." Logan murmured as he sat down again, taking a sip. "And the strong stuff." He took another drink, and then sighed before continuing. "Yeah, we moved in together. Wade's place was too small, really. He'd lived in the same flat since getting out of college and there was barely enough room for one person, let alone two, so… so Wade moved into my place. It was so great, having him there and we became so domestic it was almost sickening." He laughed a little, remembering. Remy watched him with a faint smile – he could tell that Logan had truly loved Wade, and that made the inevitable heartbreak all the worse. "We used to joke about how much we'd hated each other at the start, and how we'd never have imagined living together and being together back then." 

"So… what went wrong…?" 

"I don't know." Logan sighed heavily, and he paused to drink again. "I just know that about a year and six months later, something changed. Wade got promoted, finally, and suddenly everything was about work and his career. Now I wasn't some sap who demanded every minute of his day but after the third time he left me waiting at a restaurant because he'd favoured work over our plans… enough was enough. I confronted him about it, and we fought. It was the first big fight we'd ever had – we'd had quarrels before over little things, stupid things, but this fight was different. We'd never screamed at each other like that before." Remy reached over and took his hand again, which Logan was grateful for. "Things fell apart after that. He'd spend entire nights at the office – so I thought at least – and he'd never tell me where he was going when he went out at all hours and when he was at home it was always so tense, just like it had been when we first met. And then-," Logan's voice cracked and he felt a familiar stinging in his eyes, and he paused to try and get control of himself. He really didn't want to cry, not over Wade, not now. 

"Hey…" Remy gave his hand a squeeze, and then he pulled his hand free and instead wrapped his arm around Logan's shoulders. "You don' have to go on, if it's too much." 

"No, no… I need this. I think I've needed this for a while, actually." He took a few shaky breaths whilst he forced back the tears he didn't want to shed, and knocked it all back with another swallow of whiskey. "I caught him with someone else. Someone he'd met at work, after he was promoted. She was pretty, too. Pretty and perfect and just like the girls Wade used to brag about dating in college. We had another fight after she left, and I don't know if he was telling the truth or just aiming to hurt me, but he told me he was tired of me and wanted something better, wanted _someone_ better. He told me he was sick of being around me, called me pathetic and clingy and said he'd never loved me. Back then, in the moment, I thought he only said that to really drive the knife in deep but thinking back he never actually said the words back to me." 

"Den he's a fool." Remy muttered, anger lacing his voice. Logan leant into him a little and gave him a weak smile, suddenly wishing he had a bigger glass – or a fuller one. 

"He stormed out, probably spent the night at her place. I didn't know where he went and at that point I didn't care. I went to work angry and hurt and by the time I got back he was almost finished packing. He walked out on me for the final time that evening and I never saw him again. Everything I'd ever given him – birthday presents, the like – he left behind. Anything that could serve as a memory of our relationship. I stayed at the job for another few months but it was too much, and when I heard talk of Wade taking over the running of my department I knew I had to get out. That's about the time I decided to pack up and come home." He finished off his whiskey, and gave another sigh. "You know, talking about it, telling the whole story… it doesn't sound like much. It certainly doesn't sound like something that would totally shatter my heart and tear my life down from around me, but that's how it felt. I gave him three years of my life, three years of my love. I gave him my heart, and he walked all over it." 

"You may t'ink it don' sound like much, Logan… but Remy knows dat de slightest t'ing can hurt more dan you expect." He took the empty glass from Logan's hand and replaced it with his own, untouched one. "You got yo' heart broken. Dat's no small t'ing. An' a broken heart can stay wit' you fo'ever, if you let it. When you get hurt, it effects yo' whole life fo' a long time after, non?" 

"You're speaking from experience again, aren't you?" Logan sighed, swirling the whiskey in the glass. "Was it a broken heart for you, too?" 

"Not exactly." Remy shook his head a little. "More like broken trust an' a broken body, but de aftermat' can be de same." Logan remembered the scars that covered Remy, no doubt from head to toe, and one hand tightened into a fist. 

"You once told me you tried to get help, and instead you were sent to places that were harmful. Is that-," 

"Oui." Remy cut in, tensing a little. "De firs' time, Remy was sent away. No room at de inn fo' poor lil' Remy. Same fo' de second place Remy tried. Dey took one look at him an' condemned him befo' even askin' his name. Remy did t'ings to survive dat he won' speak of, all because no one would take him in." Logan didn't want to think about what sort of things Remy meant, though he had a fair idea. "But den Remy heard 'bout dis place, run by a Mr Essex, dat offered help to people like Remy, so… he took anot'er chance. Remy got to sleep in a warm, soft bed fo' de firs' time since he left home, wit'out havin' to earn it." 

"Essex… why is that name familiar?" Logan frowned, trying to search his memory for where he'd heard it before. 

"He was in de newspapers a lot." Remy shrugged. "He gave Remy a place to stay, an' hot food, an' all fo' not'in'. Remy couldn' believe it at de time. O' course he knows better now. Not'in's ever fo' free, an' nobody does somet'in' fo' someone else wit'out wantin' somet'in' in return." 

"So… what did Essex want?" 

"A test subject." Remy's hands fisted in his trousers, and Logan offered the glass of whiskey back to him. He took it gratefully and knocked half of it back in one go. "Not'in' major t'ough, jus' some medical stuff, an' only at first. An' den he used Remy as some kind o' personal servant, runnin' all sorts o' weird errands fo' him. But when an underground gang got involved, Remy said he didn' want to do it, an' Essex… well, he didn' let Remy go wit'out a fight." 

"Why didn't you go to the police?" Logan stared at him is disbelief, part of him wondering which of the scars on Remy's body had been inflicted by this 'Essex' or the people he might have had working for him. "Why didn't you tell someone?" 

"Dey'd never believe Remy over him, an' he had connections everywhere. Even if someone had believed Remy, de report would have gone missin' somewhere, never to be seen again." He shrugged. "Besides… Remy got away wit' his life. He didn' want to risk changin' dat." Logan could tell there was more to Remy's story – after all, he remembered Remy saying he'd tried four times, and so far he'd only spoken of three – but he could also tell that Remy didn't want to talk about it further. "Enough 'bout dat, t'ough, eh?" He smiled, but it looked forced. "You t'ink de rain has stopped now…?" 

"I… I don't know…" Logan reached for his hand, and held it gently. "But I hope not." He licked his lips, wondering when they'd become so dry, and gave Remy a soft, genuine smile. "Why don't you stay here tonight? It's pretty late, and even if the rain has stopped now it might start again on your way back…" _And I don't want either of us to be alone tonight, not after this,_ he added to himself. Both of them had revealed a dark and painful part of their past, and whilst he couldn't say for Remy, Logan felt a little emotionally drained from it. 

"You really want a t'ief stayin' in yo' house?" Remy asked with a slight smirk, and Logan rolled his eyes. 

"No. I want a friend staying in my house." He stole the glass back from him and finished off the whiskey with a grin. "And thief or not, you were there for me when I needed help, so… if nothing else, consider this me returning the favour. I don't know where it is you stay at night, but surely it's not better than here?" 

"Oh, Remy don' know… he's seen de state o' yo' kitchen." There was a definite smirk on Remy's face now, and it took Logan a moment to realise what he'd said. 

"There's nothing wrong with my kitchen!" He huffed, standing up to take the glasses through, dumping them in the sink. "Keep that up and I'll withdraw the offer." 

"You wouldn'." He turned, finding Remy leaning against the doorframe, looking more at ease than he had so far. "Or Remy will sit an' paw at yo' front door like a lost dog an' howl until you let him back in." Logan raised an eyebrow, but Remy simply shrugged. "Yo' choice, but you should know dat Remy can howl pretty loud." They held each other's gaze for a moment or two before they both broke into laughter. 

"Alright, alright. I won't withdraw the offer." Logan shook his head, laughing still. "But try to keep the insults about how I keep my house to a minimum. Deal?" Remy pretended to consider it at great length, before he finally gave a nod. 

"Remy can do dat, oui. You got a deal." Logan moved to push past him lightly, rolling his eyes again. 

"Has anyone ever told you you're an ass?" Remy caught Logan's arm before he could slip past him, and Logan found himself pressed back against the doorframe. 

"Is dat any way to talk to a guest in yo' house, Logan?" Remy murmured, a cocky little grin on his face as he leant in closer. Logan didn't know where this sudden burst of confidence had come from, but he felt like he was seeing a side of Remy that had possibly been hidden since the day he ran from his home. Of course, it might also have had something to do with the kiss they'd shared, and the trust that had developed between them. 

"If he sasses me like that, sure." Logan smirked back at him, resting a hand on Remy's hip. It was a step forward from their usual physical contact, but it felt okay – and Remy certainly wasn't pulling away from him. 

"Oh, you ain' seen anyt'in' yet." He laughed, leaning in to kiss Logan's cheek. "You jus' wait, Logan." 

"Consider me intrigued." Logan slowly leant in, much like earlier, testing the waters a little – he wasn't sure if either of them were up to getting into anything or even if they should, but damnit he wanted to kiss Remy, as long as Remy wanted to kiss him, too. Remy met him halfway – it was another shy, sweet kiss, the kind of kiss Logan would have had in the school yard as a boy, and nothing more, but it was perfect all the same. It was definitely worth it when he saw the smile on Remy's face when they parted. 

"… You kiss all yo' guests?" When Remy gave him that cheeky little grin again, Logan gave him a light, playful shove and wandered back into the living room. 

"You're an ass." 

\-- 

When Remy woke the next morning, it was to the smell of cooking bacon, and his stomach was growling even before he was fully awake. For a moment his mind forgot where he was and upon opening his eyes he expected to see the deep violet walls of his old bedroom – and instead found himself staring at the faded blue carpet of Logan's living room. He looked up from where he lay sprawled on the sofa, the soft blanket Logan had given him twisted around his legs, and spotted Logan moving about in the kitchen – which was probably why he could smell bacon. 

He shifted his position until he had a clearer view of him, and he smiled as he watched him crack eggs into a pan. He was still dressed in the clothes he had no doubt slept in – a pair of loose shorts and a baggy t-shirt – and his hair was sticking up in all directions. He slowly pushed up off the sofa, dragging a hand through his own hair as he wandered towards the kitchen, pausing at the door. 

"Somet'in' smells good." Logan turned, pan in hand, and grinned when he saw him standing there. 

"Oh, good. You're awake." He gestured to the pan. "Hungry?" Remy stepped onto the cool tiled floor of the kitchen and nodded, sliding into a chair and tucking his legs up under himself. 

"You didn' have to cook breakfast." Remy yawned, and Logan hurried to put some bacon and eggs onto a plate for him. "But Remy appreciates it." 

"It'd be rude not to at least offer." Logan carried the two plates over to the table and set them down. "Do you want juice or coffee?" 

"Oh, uh… coffee sounds good." Remy couldn't help but smile as Logan hurried to pour some coffee. "You want Remy to do dat?" 

"No, no. I got it. How do you take it?" 

"Black, three sugars." Remy told him without missing a beat. Logan smiled to himself as he added the sugar, and then he carried the two mugs to the table, and finally took a seat opposite him. "T'ank you. Dis is real nice, Logan." 

"It's just bacon and eggs. I'm hardly a master chef." He smirked, stabbing a generous bit of bacon onto his fork. When he met Remy's eyes, he smiled. "You don't have to keep thanking me, you know." 

"It's only polite." Remy rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his coffee. "Dis is good." 

"Coffee machine." Logan admitted with a laugh. "Greatest invention, I swear." He watched Remy eating breakfast at his kitchen table, still wearing his clothes, and realised it was something he could definitely get used to seeing. 

One step at a time, however. He didn't need to rush into anything. 

Once breakfast was finished with, Logan checked Remy's clothes from the night before, handing them over to him after checking they were completely dry. Remy disappeared to get changed once more, returning only a few minutes later with Logan's clothes folded in a neat pile, the brown coat draped over one arm. He kissed Logan goodbye at the door, making his apologies for not being able to stay longer, and thanking him once more for letting him stay, and Logan waited at the door as he watched him hurry off down the street. 

He didn't even know he had a huge daft grin on his face until Ororo came out to take out some trash and gave him a familiar knowing smile.


End file.
